Pirouette
by blueorchids
Summary: It’s ten years post season three. The doctors we first met in season one have all moved on and have achieved many successes in their lives. Now, ten years later they are gathered to dedicate a new wing of the hospital to the late Richard Webber. Amon
1. Chapter 1

**Pirouette Chapter 1**

It's ten years post season three. The doctors we first met in season one have all moved on and have achieved many successes in their lives. Now, ten years later they are gathered to dedicate a new wing of the hospital to the late Richard Webber. Among those in attendance, Burke and Cristina. This is their first meeting since the wedding that never happened. Neither one knew that the other would be there.

I said that I wouldn't post this but couldn't resist the temptation.

Characters are borrowed from Grey's Anatomy

The man in the navy blue trench coat stood outside the entrance of Seattle Grace hospital looking around but reluctant to go in. So much about the place had changed since he had last been there, and yet so much remained the same. If not for the new wing which was recently completed, the exterior of the hospital would be just as he had left it. Ten years ago he had walked away at the height of his career, leaving everything behind.

Now, on this cold Seattle morning, he was back, standing outside looking in. This place that was once his home now seems so different, and he felt a little uneasy going. He wondered how many of the people he once knew still worked there. Tomorrow he would be back here for the grand opening of the Richard Webber Cardiac wing, a unit named in honour of his old chief, who passed away two years ago. The thought of Richard Webber dead saddened him. At sixty four years old he was still a relatively young vibrant man, but a sudden heart attack had felled him and even though they hadn't seen each other in years, the loss was still quite painful.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward recognizing that he had to get the formalities over with. He had to meet the new chief to discuss the program for tomorrow's dedication. He was told that many of the past staff members, during Richard's tenure, would be back for the dedication. He wondered how many of those that he knew would be back. Over the years he had lost contact with almost everyone, some on purpose, others just gradually disappeared. He tried desperately not to think of the one person that he wished would be there. The Deep down he knew that she wouldn't be. Like him, she had disappeared and no one, not even Richard knew what became of her.

As he walked through the corridors of the hospital, eyes followed him but no one approached him. He didn't see any familiar faces. Everyone seemed to be new. Instead of going to the chief's office on the second floor, he found himself going in another direction, to the place where the locker rooms once were but they weren't there, there were renovations done to the interior of the hospital as well, and nothing was where he thought it would be. In the midst of all the changes one thing remained the same. The old on call rooms were still in the same location. He approached the room cautiously, aware of the fact that he had no business in that part of the hospital as he was no longer an employee. Standing a short distance from the door, he watched as a young female intern left the room followed by her male counterpart. The sight of the two young people brought back so much memories that he could hardly control his emotions. Ten years had passed, he had married someone else and was now a widower. His life had changed drastically but amidst all the changes, one thing remained constant. She was never far from his thoughts.

The New chief, David Welland was once head of Cardiology at Seattle Presbyterian. He was an old friend of Richard's and had transferred to Seattle Grace a few years prior to Richard's death.

As he approached what used to be Richard's office he was met by a woman who introduced herself as Dr. Welland's assistant. The assistant told him to go right in as Dr. Welland was expecting him. When he entered the office, Dr. Welland Rose from his chair and moved forward hand outstretched. The man in the Navy blue trench coat stretched his hand forward and introduced himself. "Dr Welland, I'm Preston Burke."

At the conclusion of his meeting with the chief, Preston Burke walked out of Seattle Grace and headed to Joe's. The bar was still there but unfortunately; Joe wasn't; He and his partner had sold the bar and moved away after they became parents. Burke sat quietly at the bar and ordered a drink. Everything had changed, even Joe's. The new owner of the bar was friendly and tried to engage Burke in a conversation but to no avail. He never liked bars and now with Joe gone he had no reason to be there. He finished his drink and headed to his hotel, but the road to his hotel intersected with the road to the apartment that he once called home. Unable to resist the temptation, he drove by the apartment just to see if it still looked the same. It was like going back in time, Seattle had changed so much and yet this apartment building seemed to remain the same. The grounds were still immaculately landscaped and the building itself appeared to be in excellent condition. He looked up in the direction of his old unit and wondered who lived there now. His eyes became misty and he told himself that it was just the result of being tired but deep down he knew better. The place evoked so many memories. Memories of a much simpler time before everything fell apart. The story of his life could never be told without mentioning this place and those times.

Back at the hotel he ordered room service and while he waited for his meal to be delivered, he searched his briefcase for a copy of the itinerary for the next day. The keynote speaker for the occasion will be a doctor by the name of C.Y. Carlson. He had never met Dr Carlson but he had great admiration for her work. The buzz in the medical community was all about her. He wondered though, what her connection was to Richard or to Seattle Grace. She was young so ten years ago she would have been an intern and he didn't remember any surgical intern by that name at the hospital. She could have been someone who transferred to Seattle grace after he left. According to Dr. Welland, she will surprise everyone and Richard would have been proud.

His meal arrived and after eating he made a few phone calls to friends back in Arizona. Afterwards he went out on the balcony and stood there looking out at the city. It was late evening and even though the sky was clear, the smell of rain was in the air. In the distance he could see Seattle Grace and for a brief moment the pain of so long ago resurfaced, so he went back inside and closed the balcony door. Life he thought, gave us one chance and when we blow it, there's no going back. We can pick up the pieces and move on but nothing would be the same

Unpacking his suitcase seemed unnecessary since he was only going to be in the city for a few days, but for lack of something better to do he began to unpack it. At the very top of his suitcase laid a small picture frame, he picked it up and held it to his chest and momentarily closed his eyes. The picture was that of his wife Laurel, taken in her office a few months after their wedding. She was seated at her desk, her head leaned backwards laughing at something that he had said to her. On the wall behind her were dozens of pictures of her young patients. She was a paediatrician and the irony in all that was that she later found out that she could not have children of her own.

Laurel was the best thing that ever happened to him. She came in his life at a time when he had lost all faith in himself both as a man and as a surgeon. They met in Alabama where he had retreated to after he left Seattle. She became his lifeline, got him through some difficult times. Got him to talk and eventually he told her everything about his life in Seattle, and the woman he left behind. A little more than a year after they met, they were married and he moved to Arizona with her. She had taken over her father's practice after he retired. They were happy. Laurel understood him and eventually they started to plan a family together. Everything seemed to be going well until after months of trying unsuccessfully to conceive, they found out that Laurel was unable to. They had gotten over that hurdle, discussed other options and had decided on adoption but Laurel wanted to try surrogacy. She wanted desperately to have his biological child even if that child had no genetic attachment to her.

Then suddenly, all those plans had to be halted. Laurel began to feel sick and was soon diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Eight months later, she was dead.

_He remembered the day she died so vividly. Laurel had decided that she wanted to die at home and so he brought her home from the hospital. He had taken time off work to care for her. A week after coming home she woke up one morning feeling and sounding better than she had been for a long time. He was sitting by her bed wiping her face with a warm cloth when she suddenly grabbed his hand and said "Honey, promise me something."_

_He had held her hand, in his heart he knew that the end was near "Anything." He said softly_

"_Promise me that you'll find her."_

_He thought for a moment that she was just confused so he asked "find who, honey?"_

"_Cristina" she replied. "You have to find her."_

_He didn't know what to say to her, so he said the only thing he knew was true. "Laurel. I love you."_

_She couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and so with tears streaming down her cheeks she said "Honey, she was the love of your life . . . You are the love of my life . . . I'm dying and it breaks my heart to know that you are going to be sad and unhappy again . . . Please promise me that you won't be unhappy . . . promise me that you're going to pick up the pieces and carry on . . . the only way . . . the only way for you to do that is to see her again . . . please . . . "_

_She was getting tired and he didn't want to upset her anymore and so he promised. He held her hand his head bowed. A moment later she pulled his head unto her chest, held him as tight as she could with her frail arms, and took her last breath. _

The death of his wife threw him in a great depression. She was selfless and self assured. The fact that all along she knew that there was someone else with a stronghold on his heart didn't matter. She was his wife and they were good for each other. With her gone, work became his salvation. He was Chief of Surgery, a position he had always wanted. Now, eighteen months after Laurel's death, he had finally taken a leave of absence from his job. She would have been proud of him, he could still hear her saying _"honey you work too hard." _That seemed to have been her favourite phrase, especially in the month before she died.

He finished unpacking his clothes and put away his suitcase in the closet. He picked up his briefcase, forgetting that it wasn't locked and all the contents spilled to the floor. While picking the contents up he came across an envelope that he received at the hospital a few weeks after laurel's death. It was addressed to him but when he opened it, he didn't understand what it was about and thought that it was meant for Laurel but was addressed to him instead. The envelope contained the photograph of a group of children in what appeared to be a ballet performance. Most of the children were sitting in a circle except for this one child who was standing in the middle of the circle. She stood on the tip of her toes with both hands meeting in a circular position above her head. The child could be around nine or ten years old, she was tall and slender and her hair was pulled back from her face and formed a bun at the top of her head. She wore what appeared to be a small tiara on her head. At the back of the photograph someone had written. Arianna

While putting back the photograph in the envelope he discovered something else. It was an article from a newspaper and shows the picture of the same child, only this time it was just a head shot. He was fascinated by the picture. There was something hauntingly beautiful about the child. In this picture she had her hair down and her slender face was almost hidden by all the hair, around her slender neck she wore a necklace with a circular pendant which appeared to be a ring. The article was actually a review from the New York Ballet City company. The child had been the youngest person invited to dance with the company and she was getting rave reviews. The article states that Arianna, an only child, was invited to attend the prestigious New York City Ballet School on full scholarship but she declined. The article referred to her as a child prodigy but stated that when asked what was her favourite thing to do, Arianna replied, "ride horses and hanging out with my friends."

He put the article along with the photograph back in the envelope. It was quite a long article written about someone so very young. The envelope was definitely for Laurel. She was very interested in the arts and especially about dance. She was always contributing to different theatres and was a patron of the local city ballet for children. Arianna must be one of the children she came in contact with through her work with the local children's group. Still, there was something about the photograph that haunts him. Whomever she was, Arianna appeared to be not only beautiful but well grounded. The next day, Saturday, he got up early and went for a workout in the hotel gym, then had breakfast alone in the hotel restaurant.

Later in the day he got dressed and went to the hospital. Before the dedication there was a small reception and Burke was reunited with many of the people with whom he had worked so many years ago. The group as he knew it had disbanded. Derek Shepherd was in New York, Dr. Bailey was still at Seattle Grace, Meredith Grey was in Boston, O'malley was at Seattle Presbyterian, Callie was at Seattle grace, Alex Karev had married Izzie Stephens and they moved to Ohio. Everyone, though not all there, was accounted for, everyone except her.

After the reception they all moved to the new wing where the dedication was to be held. The chief had informed everyone that the ceremony was running a little bit late because the keynote speaker's flight was delayed but that she would be arriving shortly. One by one people went up on stage to say a few words about Richard Webber, including his wife Adelle. When it was Burke's turn to speak, he gave a heartwarming speech about his respect for the man who was once his mentor, and of the wonderful work that Richard had done for the hospital. Finally, the chief took to the stage and made the announcement.

"And now ladies and gentlemen it is my pleasure to introduce our keynote speaker for this afternoon. Some of you may know her because years ago she did a part of her internship at this hospital. Since then this doctor has gone on to become one of the foremost Cardiothoracic Surgeons in our country and indeed the world. She has been asked to lecture all over the world and was kind enough to take time out of her busy schedule to travel here today to honour the late Dr. Webber, and so without any further ado, I would like to introduce Dr. C.Y. Carlson."

The cheers went up, the curtains moved, the cameras from the newspapers there to document the opening flashed, and she walked out on stage. The audience went silent and she began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's a pleasure to be here today. Some of you may know me, most of you won't . . . My name is Cristina Yang Carlson


	2. Chapter 2

Pirouette Chapter 2

Characters are borrowed from Grey's Anatomy

All around him, the ones who knew their history, kept staring at him. Forgetting one basic thing that all mothers seem to tell their children **"do not stare" **They were looking for a reaction, anything that would give away how he was really feeling. But they got nothing, he sat stoic and looking straight ahead, and except for the tight clenching of the jaw, no one could tell how he was feeling.

Inside, he was in turmoil. For a few rows ahead of him, upon that stage, stood the woman that he had spent the last ten years of his life wondering about. Gone was the unruly long curly hair and the unbridled arrogance. In front of him stood a more mature version of his Cristina. The years have definitely been good to her. She was brilliant, articulate, beautiful and she commanded the stage like no other. Everyone, young and old listened carefully to every word that came out of her mouth. He was listening as she spoke.

"_With all the advancement that we've made in science, medical technology, and medicine in general, we've still not been able to duplicate or replace one basic ingredient, . . . the human touch. Richard Webber had the human touch. It was his quiet leadership in the surgical wing of this hospital that allowed young idealistic interns like me and my fellow interns to learn and to succeed while we interned here. We came here full of hope and promise and we left here as surgeons . . . "_

She had the audience in the palm of her hands, he thought, and he couldn't be more proud. He removed his glasses and cleaned it, an old habit he had whenever he was nervous. He wondered what her life was like, who her husband was and if she had any children. For a few moments he blinked and closed his eyes. The thought of her having children with anyone else was too much to bare. When he opened his eyes again, she seemed to looking right at him. But she averted her eyes once he saw her. He replaced his glasses and continued listening.

"_Of all the lessons that I've learned from Richard Webber, one stands out in particular. "When all else fails," he said, "always go back to the basics." "Today, we honour Dr. Webber by going back to the basics of medicine, and by providing this hospital with a new Surgical wing. A place where everyone's surgical needs, both basic and complex will be met._

_And so it is my honour to declare the Richard Webber Surgical wing open."_

The audience was standing, the roar of the applause was deafening and as the applause died down she disappeared from the stage.

Dr. Welland came back and was addressing the audience. "I know that many of you may want to speak with Dr. Carlson and she has very willingly agreed to stay for a few more minutes, but please be cognizant of the fact that she will have to leave shortly as she must catch a flight to England, where she will be addressing the graduating class of the Oxford University Medical School, before returning to her home in California"

She lives in California, he couldn't believe it, all these years and she live in California. She hated California he thought, she thought it was too hot. He made his way to the small reception area and stood at the back. Everyone was crowding around her, asking questions. He made no attempt make his presence known or to ask any questions. In his mind he had no right to that, or to even be in the same room with her. This is what he had always known, that she would be a star that shines brighter, than any other. He listened to some of the questions and found out a few things. She had completed her internship in California, he supposed it was to be close to her family. He was glad to hear that; at least she would have had family around her during that turbulent time. She spent a year in England but he didn't know why. A young intern asked the one question that most people were thinking but too afraid to ask. " Dr. Carlson," she asked, "Why didn't you finish your internship at Seattle Grace?"

Without any obvious reaction she looked at the young intern and for a very brief moment the events of ten years ago resurfaced in her mind, and she looked sad. "My reasons for leaving" she said "Was very personal."

She thanked everyone for speaking with her and promised to come back and visit the hospital. "After all" she said, "this will always be home, but I'd like to take a few minutes to look around my old haunts before I leave. Thank you all for coming."

He backed out of the room quietly, unaware that she had seen him. He wanted so much to say something to her but he wanted it to be private. He walked around for a bit hoping that he would run into her but he never did. It occurred to him that maybe she was deliberately avoiding places where they would meet. Eventually he found himself outside. It was late evening and the night air was cool, the clouds grey as if at any moment the rain would come bursting through. He walked around, a thousand memories flooding in his mind. Then there she was standing under a tree, talking to Meredith. Realizing that, that may be his only chance to get to speak to her, he approached them.

They both saw him coming and Meredith quickly gave Cristina a hug and walked away. As he got closer, she began to walk in the opposite direction. He hastened and caught up with her. She never stopped walking, never looked at him. He wanted so much to say the right things but wasn't sure where to start. Finally, he walked passed her and stopped directly in front of her. She stopped walking and he began to speak. "You were magnificent up there" he said . . . "you are magnificent . . . I'm very proud of you."

When she spoke there was no emotion in her voice. She looked him straight in the eye and said "Thank you, Dr. Burke."

That hurt, she called him Dr. Burke, he wasn't Dr. Burke . . . not to her. To her he was always simply Burke and yet here she was being formal and distant.

"Cristina, you don't have to call me Dr. Burke." He said sadly.

She was talking, more to herself than to him, "This tree has been here for a long time. I wonder what it would say if it could speak. Maybe it would remind me that on the first day of our internship, Meredith threw up here . . . funny how much of the little things I remember . . . just being here . . . the unpleasant things . . . "

She trembled and he removed his coat and placed it around her slender shoulders. It's too cold out here. You should go back inside. She didn't say a word but she accepted the coat. It was the one little glimmer of hope that he was looking for, and he knew that he had to speak right then or the moment would pass. 'Cristina, I'm sorry . . . for all the pain and embarrassment that I've caused you . . . for everything. Please forgive me."

She looked at him, her expression unreadable and then she told him, "What's done is done . . . You chose to walk away . . . I survived . . . You don't have to be sorry . . . we make choices in life and good or bad, we have to live with them . . . Now if you don't mind, Dr Burke, I'd like to be alone."

Without saying another word, he walked away, leaving her alone, walking among the trees, and out of his life.

He went back inside the hospital to bid farewell to his former colleagues, and then he walked all the way back to his hotel. He couldn't find the words to describe how seeing her again made him feel. One thing was certain. The years and the distance did nothing to change his feelings for her. He wanted to hold her, to wrap his arms around like he always does, he wanted to feel that hair tickling his nose. It didn't matter that she had cut her hair, long or short it was still Cristina. He wondered if she was happy, he believed that she was. She didn't mention her husband but she wore a ring on her finger, and he felt a little sad that she was wearing someone else' ring. She didn't do rings. She told him once, how times have changed. He wondered what kind of man she married. Was he a surgeon too? Did he love her? He had all those questions and yet he knew that he had no rights to the answers. He' had given up that right years ago.

Alone in his hotel room, he thought about the evening and his shock when Dr Welland introduced her. He had no idea that C.Y. Carlson was Cristina, he wondered if she did that deliberately. He realized that Richard Webber had always known where Cristina was, but would not divulge that information. He had contacted Richard years ago wanting to find Cristina, but he believed that Richard had never forgiven him for his handling of the tremor, his resignation, and causing Cristina to leave. In some ways he believed that he was justified in letting her go, because he had serious doubts that if they had gotten married Cristina would have been able to accomplish all that she has. She would have made many sacrifices for him including having children and he knew that children would be a direct conflict with her ambitions. She looked so beautiful, so poised, a rose among the thorns. He smiled when he tried to compare the girl she once was with the woman she had obviously become. In some ways it made him a little sad for he loved his girl and didn't want her to change too much. Something tells him that underneath all that poise and polish lies his old Cristina, brash, arrogant and fierce.

He remembered how beautiful she looked on the day they should have been married. How willing she was to give up so much of herself to be with him. He couldn't let her do it. He loved her too much, and so he had made the decision to set her free. History, have taught us that for all the freedoms that we enjoy, someone paid a tremendous price. In setting her free he paid a tremendous price and he hoped that in the end she would come to understand why he did it, and forgive him.

There's an old saying, which states, in order to be forgiven, one must first forgive one's self. He hadn't forgiven himself. He had married a woman who loved him and whom he loved but he still hadn't gotten over Cristina. Lucky for him, Laurel was not the kind of woman to be jealous. She was honest and kind and she had tried so hard to make his life complete. In the end the child that she wanted to give him was not to be. Thinking of Laurel made him smile, even in death she was able to make him smile. He had never known a woman who tried to find a wife for her husband before she dies. He remembered her telling him one day that before she dies she was going to find him a wife, because he didn't deserve to be alone. When that failed she became obsessed with him finding Cristina.

He remembered his promise to her that he would find Cristina, but even in finding her, he had lost. She was already married, and happily it seemed. He felt like he was adrift, no wife, no family and a career that he had temporarily put on hold. All his life he had worked hard and had achieved the highest rewards, but he wasn't happy. For the first time in his life Preston Burke felt like a complete failure.


	3. Chapter 3

Pirouette Chapter 3

Characters are borrowed from Grey's Anatomy

The drive back to her hotel was short but she asked the taxi driver to drive around for a bit. She told him she wanted to see the sights of Seattle. The driver obliged but everytime he tried to make small talk she would decline. The driver thought it was strange, his passenger obviously wasn't in the mood to talk but she seemed like a nice lady. Maybe she was a tourist so he drove her around to a few of Seattle's land marks before taking her to her hotel. The drive around the city gave her time to reflect on the events of the day. Coming back to Seattle Grace was like coming home. She liked the place and the people. Seattle represented so many things to her. It was here where she truly became a woman, and took the first step in becoming a surgeon. She made life long-friends here, Used a ten blade to cut someone open for the first time. Fell in love, experience the loss of a baby, and later on the loss of that baby's father.

For the past ten years she had lived with the pain of that loss. With the passage of time she had come to realize that he truly believed that by letting her go, he was setting her free. But she didn't want that freedom, she wanted him. She blamed herself for not being able to convey to him how much he meant to her. Regretted not taking an active part in their wedding plans, he didn't realize that in some ways she enjoyed watching him planning their wedding. Most men would stay as far away from that as possible, not him, he was happy being in the thick of things. Or so she thought. She allowed herself to be plucked and painted just for him, but he never appreciated that. He wanted more.

She remembered clearly the way he walked in the dressing room that day. He had always been handsome but on that day he looked amazing. She will carry that image in her heart forever. She remembered the look in his eyes, the sadness when he told her that he knew that she didn't want to come down the aisle, but she would anyway because she loved him. How could the same man who knew that she loved him, walked away from her? She remembered every word_ "If I loved you, not the woman that I want you to be. Not the woman that I hope you'll become, but you. If I did, I wouldn't be up there waiting, I'd be letting you go." _His final words to her, and then the love of her life walked out of her life. She remembered going home afterwards and finding him gone, leaving everything except for a few personal items. She remembered the pain, the gut wrenching pain. The tears, the days of not eating, the days of not caring whether she lived or died and then finally realizing that he may have taken what he considered to be his most valued possessions, but he had left her something more precious and didn't even know it. For weeks she kept their apartment exactly as he left it. Hoping that he would return, and then she finally had to accept that he was never coming back and she had to move on.

It was the hardest thing she had ever done, leaving Seattle. But she needed a fresh start and Seattle held too many memories. Dr. Webber had been her rock. She had confided in him and

he understood more than anyone, the sacrifices that one sometimes had to make, so helped her to secure an internship elsewhere. He had promised her that he would never tell anyone where she was, and he had kept that promise. She had sat in his office and poured her heart out and he had looked at her with compassion, for she was the best of his interns and he knew that the person sitting in his office that day, was not the intern but a broken Cristina. He could kill Burke for what he had done to her. He had told her once, right after Burke was shot, that he didn't want to be responsible for her being less human. There was no risk of that now. She was oh so human, oh so lost. She had promised him that one day she would come back to Seattle Grace, and that she would make him proud. The last conversation she had with him was a few weeks prior to his death. He had phoned her to congratulate her on an award winning article that she had written. Neither of them knew that it would have been their last conversation. He had told her how proud he was to have played even a small part in the person she had become. He was proud of her. In a way he had become the father figure she had always wanted. Now, like her real father, Richard was gone, and she hoped, she really hoped that tonight he was proud.

The taxi pulled up in front of the hotel and she paid the driver, wished him a good night and took the elevator to her room. She put her purse down and began to change. It was then that she realized that she was still wearing his jacket. She took the jacket off and held it to her nose and inhaled. The jacket had that old familiar scent, uniquely Burke. She had no idea how she would get it back to him. She had a feeling he didn't care. She thought about how he looked that evening. He seemed to have aged very little, was still very handsome but his eyes looked sad. It broke her heart to see him that way. He still had a way of saying her name that made her feel special. She wondered what her life would have been like if they had gotten married. She wanted to marry him, more so than he knew. She just didn't like the big wedding.

She opened the door to the balcony and went outside. The night air was really cold but the lights from the city shone all around and downtown Seattle never looked more beautiful. The view reminded her of the view from the window in their old apartment. She remembered clearly the first time she went to that apartment, how he left her a key the next morning. She remembered the first time they made love, for it was in fact love. She had always believed that Burke taught her how to make love. With Colin she had sex, the act without any emotion. It would have been impossible to have slept with Burke and be emotionless. She remembered the first time he told her that he loved her. She had pretended to be asleep and he never knew that she heard him. It all seemed so long ago, so much has happened since then.

She hated to think about the last few months of their relationship. It was still too painful. They both did things that they regretted. Things that directly impacted his career ambitions, things that eventually cost him the position of chief of surgery. She wondered if he had ever gotten over that. We sometimes do stupid things in the name of love, and the price we have to pay can sometimes be too much. She went back inside and closed the balcony door. Then she made a phone call to her home to check in, and to make sure that her family was ok. Everyone was happy to hear her voice, and those who knew how painful going back to Seattle would be for her, was comforted from just hearing her voice.

She had to get some sleep. In a few hours she would be jetting off to England and given the time difference she really needed to rest. Her past was her past and there was nothing that she could do to change it. She opened her suitcase to get out her pajamas. On top there was a brown envelope. She had no idea why she did it, but she felt compelled to bring that envelope with her. Inside that large envelope were two smaller ones. Both were addressed to Dr. Cristina Yang Carlson. The first letter was written almost two years ago, the hand writing very beautiful and neat. The second and final letter came three months later and it was obvious by the writing that the writer was having difficulty holding a pen.

She remembered the day she received that first letter. At first she was angry at the writer, but then she realized that she had no reason to be. This person did not want to intrude nor did she posed any threat to her. This person was reaching out, trying to make things right for someone she loves. One selfless act of kindness before she dies.

She emptied the envelopes on the bed and one by one she read the letters once again. The first time she had done so in almost in almost two years. And the effect was the same. They made her cry. The first letter began . . .

_Dear Dr Carlson:_

_My name is Laurel Myers and I have terminal cancer._

_You may wonder why someone with terminal cancer is writing to you instead of a cancer specialist. I'm writing to you Dr. Carlson, because of my husband. You see. I am married to the most amazing man. He is the sweetest, kindest, most honourable person I know. He loves me unconditionally, but he is in love with you._

_My husband's name is Dr. Preston Burke. We've been married for the past four years. I knew when I married my husband that there would be three people in our marriage. You, me and him, but I accepted that because I love him and I know he loves me. _

_When I first met my husband, he was very sad, in fact he was haunted by something unknown to me. It took me a long time to earn his trust and he told me about you. My husband has never_ _forgiven himself for the hurt that he caused you._

_I am dying, Dr. Carlson, and when I die my husband will be alone and he'll be haunted by two ghosts, you and I, but I'll be dead and won't be able to comfort him. I'm writing this letter to beg you to reach out to him. He needs to be forgiven. He needs to know that you're ok. _

_There are two things that I wasn't able to give my husband, one was children, the other was you. I'm hoping that by writing this letter, I'll be able to give him the latter. I know that you're __married and I'm not asking you to jeopardize your marriage in any way. But if you loved him half as much as I love him, then you'll understand. I can't die knowing that his life will be in turmoil again. He is a good man, Dr. Carlson. He is the best._

_My husband doesn't know that I've found you and that I'm writing you this letter. He doesn't even know that you don't go by the name Yang anymore. A friend of my family owns a private Detective Agency and I've solicited his help in finding you. I don't have a lot of time left, Dr.__Carlson. This is my dying wish. Please help me fulfill it._

_Thank you for taking the time to read this letter,_

_Laurel Myers_

Cristina put the first letter on the bed and picked up the second. Eyes brimming with tears, she could hardly see to read. She remembered thinking that Laurel must have been crying the day she wrote that letter. Because there were little water marks all over the page. Now, she wasn't sure how much of those dried up tears were hers and how much was Laurel's. The letter stated ...

_Dear Dr. Carlson:_

_I came home today. _

_My husband took me home so that I can die surrounded by the things and the people that I love. _

_I'm very weak and I know that I don't have much time left. Next Monday, March first, will be my birthday. Wouldn't it be strange if I die on the date that I was born?_

_I'm not afraid of death. I've accepted my fate, but I'm deathly afraid of leaving my husband alone. He is strong, but the last few months have taken its toll on him. Please think about what I asked you in my first letter, and know that if sometime in the future you and my husband should find your way back together: You'll have my blessings, and I'll be smiling down on you._

_I'm not a martyr, I'm not handing over my husband to you, but I love him enough to want him to be_ _happy, and I know that you'll make him happy. _

_This will be my last letter. I wish that I could have met you. I think I would have liked you._

_Thank You,_

_Laurel_

Cristina finished reading the letters. Tears streaming down her face. Then she folded them back and replaced them in their envelopes. On the big brown envelope she wrote "Letters from Laurel" put the smaller ones in, and sealed it. Afterwards, she crumpled to the floor, the tears still flowing, and held herself in that fetal position that we are all so familiar with, and for the second time in ten years, she wept. She wept for a woman that she never met but felt she knew. She wept for ten years of pain and hurt, She wept for all the unfulfilled possibilities, she wept for herself, and she wept for Burke.


	4. Chapter 4

Pirouette Chapter 4

I have no interest in Grey's Anatomy and my use of the characters is done without consent. No copyright infringement intended.

Somewhere high above the clouds over London England an airplane prepared to make its final decent. As the Flight Attendant instructed the passengers to fasten their seat belts, he closed the book that he had been reading and looked out the window. London was a bustling city and it was as foggy as he had imagined it to be. It was not his first trip to the city, while he was in college he had joined a few friends on a summer trip to Europe and London was one of the city that they visited. That was many years ago, and it was that youthful trip, that solidify his decision to be a surgeon. Back then he felt like he was chasing a dream, now here he was, once again three thousand miles across the Atlantic chasing the biggest dream of his life, Cristina.

_He was not impulsive, it was very rare for him to do anything without thinking it through thoroughly, but this trip was not planned, it was taken on impulse and he didn't care. All he knew was that three nights before, at the dedication of the new hospital wing, something happened. He had seen the woman who had once been the most important person in his life, and realized that unlike the first time it was much harder to walk away. So, he spent a long time on the phone, calling hotels trying to find out if she was registered there, but he didn't find her. Most of the people who were in the position of knowing where she was, refused to tell him. To them he was still the villain, still the man who broke her heart._

_No one seemed to care that his heart was broken too. Because to them he had caused it all, and whatever pain he suffered, he deserved it. He found himself that night in the hotel bar. It was almost empty there and no one knew who he was. He found a quiet place to sit and ordered a drink. He hadn't been in a bar in years and he felt a little strange. There was music coming from somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but there was an old-fashioned juke box in a corner. A couple that was sitting a little distance away from him got up and started to dance. In some ways, they reminded him of himself and Cristina. _

_He sipped his drink and watched them dance. Then suddenly the tempo changed, a new song came on. He remembered his mother playing that song when he was a boy. The song was hauntingly beautiful and he thought how sad it was that they didn't make songs like that anymore. He listened, and all the pain and the heartache bottled up inside him for so long, came surging through and broke him._

_So he sat there unable to move and listened to Garnet Mimms sing "Cry Baby", and with every wail of cry, cry baby, his eyes welled up with tears. No one noticed. The mood lighting in the bar certainly suited his mood that night, and cast a protective shadow over him. From where he sat he could see the people entering the bar, and he saw her the moment she walked in. He watched her as she ordered a drink and sat quietly sipping it. He watched her for a few moments, longer. She seemed sad, so different from the poised, eloquent speaker of earlier that night. A man who was sitting in the far corner of the bar approached her, but she gave him one of her old Cristina glares, and chased him away. That brought a smile to his face, some things never change._

_A little voice inside of him told him to stay away from her, but a louder voice whispered, cease the day. He got up and quietly walked up to her. She didn't seem surprised to see him. He held out his hand and asked her to dance. At first she said no, but he would not take no for an answer. He stood there, with his hand outstretched until, not wanting to draw any attention to them, she got up and went into his arms. _

_Someone started the song over, and as Garnet wailed, cry, cry, baby, welcome back home, his arms tightened about her, and the words of the song kept playing over and over in his head, cry, cry, baby, and she felt something wet and warm dripped on her bare shoulder. She looked up at him then, his eyes were closed, but there was no mistaking the moisture there, and caught up in the moment, she rested her head against his chest, and for the second time that night the dam broke and the words cry, baby, took on a more significant meaning. He felt her tremble in his arms and he whispered in her ear over and over how sorry he was for hurting her, and then the music stopped and she pulled away._

That was three nights ago. He remembered how surprised he was to find out that after all his searching, they were staying in the same hotel. In hind sight it all made sense, it was the closest hotel to the hospital. That one dance told him so much. That although she was reluctant to dance with him, once she started to, she held onto him as if she never wanted to let him go, and he remembered another time, many years ago, when she had held onto him in his hospital bed and cried, and asks him to _"don't ever die." _So much had happened since then, and he wished that he would wake up in the morning and find that it was all a dream. But he wasn't sleeping, and it wasn't a dream.

Fate had been cruel that night, bringing her back just to show him what he was missing. To rub the unvarnished truth in his face that once she was his, and that he had been stupid enough to let her go. He wanted to walk her back to her room that night, but she declined, and he watched her walk away, then went back to his room and spent a restless night. Content in the knowledge that somewhere in that same hotel she was sleeping. In a strange way, it pleased him to know that for the first time in ten years, though they were apart, they were spending the night under the same roof, in Seattle, their home.

Early the next morning he awoke feeling better. They say that men are not supposed to cry. But his cry in her arms the previous night was overwhelmingly cathartic. He had kept up that silly macho facade of not showing his emotion for so long that it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down. Lucky for him, when he crashed, she was there. She never said anything, but he knew that she was aware of his tears. She was the only person who could comfort him and she knew it, and she did. It was impossible to overlook the irony of it all. He walked away from her, left her when she needed him most, devastated her life. Yet, so many years later, back in the city where it all began, he needed her, and she was there. He had never cried before, not when he lost her, not when he lost Laurel, it was the first time that he allowed himself to

The woman sitting next to him gave him a little nudge. She was an older woman who at first annoyed him because she wouldn't stop talking. She had told him that her name was Elizabeth that she was on her way to London to attend her nephew's wedding. That despite her very thick English Accent, she had lived in the States for more than thirty years. Then she went on to tell him that she had married an American but that her husband had died a few years earlier.

The mention of the death of her husband caused him to think more kindly of the older woman. He told her that they had something in common, that his wife had died almost two years ago, and

he was on his way to London to visit a friend. The woman patted his hand and told him that she could see the sadness in his eyes, but that he shouldn't despair, That the greatest gift that he could give his wife was to go on and live his life to the fullest.

Her little nudge was to inform him that they had landed. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even realize it. They disembarked and she wished him well, told him that she found the best part of her life in his country and hoped that he would find the best part of his life, in hers. He thanked her for being such good company and apologized for his behavior in the beginning, and then they parted ways.

In a cab traveling through the streets of London, the thought occurred to him that despite the fact that as a world we were becoming more global, every city, every country still remains somewhat distinct. London was so different from Seattle, from its architecture to its double decker buses, it was a metropolis of people from around the world, and yet it was able to retain its own identity, distinctly English.

The hotel was one of the best. Modern and medium sized, it was on the outskirts of London and catered to a quieter crowd than the everyday tourist, who seemed to flock to the city. By the time he checked into the hotel it was late evening. Whatever little sun there was earlier that day had now disappeared. He showered, dressed casually and went to the hotel bar for a drink. He sat alone contemplating his next move. It crossed his mind that the last time he had seen her, was in a bar and wondered what was the likely hood of lightening striking twice.

He hoped that the information he had gotten from Meredith was correct, and that Cristina was indeed, staying at this hotel. He had to swallow the last bit of pride he had left to convince Meredith to give him that information, and he hoped, that she kept her promise not to warn Cristina of his impending arrival. The bar was beginning to get busy, too much crowd for his liking, and although the people were friendly and seemed fascinated by the lone American in the

establishment, he decided to leave. He asked the bartender for directions to a flower shop and then he left.

He took the elevator to her floor and even though her room wasn't too far away from the elevators, it seemed to take him forever to reach her door. His heart raced, and he felt like a teenage boy going to pick up his girl for a first date, but afraid to meet the parents. He stood outside the door for a few moments, listening to hear if there was any sound coming from within. Then he took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

He expected to hear her ask who it was, but instead the door opened quickly and she was standing there. She was about to say something but when she saw that it was he, she stopped and looked passed him as if she was expecting someone. She was dressed formally, wearing a light blue strapless dress and high heels. She had on very little make- up and she looked beautiful. He found himself looking at her lips, whatever the colour of her lipstick, it only served to make her lips that more inviting. She stared at him, staring at her and for a moment their eyes met and held. He had forgotten how beautiful her eyes were.

All the time he was standing there, he had his hand held behind his back, now he brought his hand forward and handed her a single white rose. She couldn't move, didn't know what to say. He had caught her totally off guard. "This he said," indicating the rose, "Is supposed to be a sign of humility, a sign of reverence . . . Purity, it's also supposed to mean that I am worthy of you . . . I'm not . . . But the humility and the reverence and the purity still stands."

She didn't take the rose, but asked him quietly, "What are you doing here?"

"We didn't finish our dance," he said . . . "in Seattle, we didn't finish."

'She looked at him, and for a moment he thought he saw what looked like a little smirk formed on her face. "We finished" she said quietly, " a long time ago . . . we finished."

"Can I come in?"

She looked at him for a long time as if trying to weigh the pros and the cons of letting him in. Then she moved away from the door and he followed her inside. She occupied a small suite and except for a large bouquet of flowers and a fruit basket, the decor was identical to his. He could see a small kitchenette to one side and a bedroom to the other. "Do you mind if I get some water?" He asked her, and she pointed toward the kitchenette and said "help yourself."

He went inside and got the tallest glass he could find and filled it with water, but instead of drinking it, he placed the stem of rose in it, then took it back to the living area and placed it on the small table next to the huge bouquet.

She watched him move. Very little had changed about him. He could still walk into a room and make it his own as if he truly owned it. He looked healthy and much better than when she last saw him in Seattle. Although she didn't want to admit it to herself, she had been concerned for him. That night in Seattle she knew that something was very wrong, finding him in a bar was the last thing she expected. She had gone there after reading Lauren's letters, hoping to get a drink, to calm her nerves. When she walked in the first thing she heard was the haunting sound of the music, and the words _cry, cry baby_ over and over.

What followed after was like a blur. All she knew was that she found herself in his arms, and that they were both holding on to one another and they were crying. The feeling of his arms around her was so familiar, so strong and yet so gentle at the same time. The feeling transported her back to a time when they were together and it seemed that nothing could touch them, and she never wanted to leave the safety of those arms. Then the music stopped and reality intruded and she retrieved from his arms. In some ways she felt like she had just said goodbye to him that night. The goodbye she never got to say ten years earlier.

Now, three days and more than three thousand miles later, here he was. She went to the bedroom and came back out holding her purse and then she turned to him. "Dr. Burke, I'm sorry, I was just on my out."

He hated her calling him Dr. Burke, and got the feeling that she was doing so deliberately, but he didn't say anything, if she called him the devil incarnate at that moment he wouldn't care. She would have been justified. He walked toward the door, then turned around and faced her. "Ten years ago I walked out of your life, and I've never forgiven myself for doing so. I know that I've hurt you beyond anything imaginable, I know that because I was hurt too. I can't change the past. If I could, I'd do it in a heart beat."

He sounded so sincere, and the eyes that looked back at her, was so familiar. For the past nine years she had looked into those beautiful brown eyes every day, only they were in someone else's face, someone much smaller. She picked up her coat from a chair and put it on, and then she asked him. "What do you want from me?" He came to stand in front of her, "two years ago, I lost someone who was very important to me . . . it made me realize how short and unpredictable life was, all I'm asking you for is your forgiveness."

She swallowed hard, there was a lump forming in her throat and she couldn't get rid of it. "I told you in Seattle that I forgave you. I don't know what else you want me to say, . . . it's been ten years . . . You asked me to forgive you and I have . . . but please don't ask me to forget, that I can't do . . . your wife is dead, but my husband is very much alive, and I have a family to consider . . . Funny, don't you think, all the things that you've ever wanted with me, I now have, but with someone else . . . You don't have to be sorry, but I have to thank you, for setting me free." She quickly walked passed him and left the room slamming the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Pirouette Chapter 5

I have no interest in Grey's Anatomy and my use of the characters is done without consent. No copyright infringement intended.

Some people believe that the path our lives will take was mapped out for us, even before are born. And that there is nothing that we can do to change it. For Burke and Cristina, that path had taken so many twists or turns, and still they had not yet found their way. What had started off as a sweet love affair had ended with a wedding that never was, a bride left at the church, two broken hearts and countless broken dreams. They had shared so many wonderful times together but in between there had been heart break, the loss of a baby, the loss of each other.

When she slammed the door of her hotel room that night, he wasn't sure if she realized that he was not on the outside but that she had locked him in. He let himself out and made his way to his own room, where he ordered room service and watched a little bit of television before going to bed. It took him a while before he fell asleep, he couldn't get her out of his mind, and he couldn't forget what she had said to him earlier. She had mentioned that his wife was dead, but he never told her that. He told her someone important to him. He shrugged it off, she must have heard through the grapevine that his wife had passed away.

The knock on his door was so light that he could easily have missed hearing it. At first he thought that maybe he was dreaming, but the knock was persistent and so he got out of bed and checked the door. Someone was definitely knocking. He called her name softly, she answered and he opened the door. She wasn't wearing the dress she had on earlier that night. She was wearing just a pair of jeans and a tank top. She walked through the door and he closed it behind her. "Are you ok?"

She looked at him and smiled "of course I'm ok, it's two o'clock in the morning and I can't sleep . Doesn't that sound like I'm okay to you?" She asked sarcastically.

He showed her to a chair, and she sat down and he sat on the other chair just looking at her but saying nothing. He reached out to take her hand but she pulled away. He wasn't sure what to say to her, and so he asked, "How was your evening?"

"I didn't come here to talk about my evening,"

"Why are you here, Cristina?"

"I'm here because I had to give a presentation at Oxford."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I'm here because I'm still trying to figure out what you are doing here . . . you dumped me ten years ago . . . left me at the church to face our friends and family, to find an excuse to explain why the wedding was called off. An excuse because I was too afraid to tell them the truth. That you told me that you didn't love the real me, that your little experiment at being professor Higgins failed, that you weren't satisfied with the results."

He went down on his knees in front of her and took her hand in his. "Cristina, you were never an experiment. I loved you . . . I still do"

"Love me, is that what you call it? ...Do you have any idea what it was like for me after you left? ...Do you know what shame is Burke?...because I do . . . I used to think that I was the luckiest woman alive . . . Sometimes at night I'd wake up, and you would still be asleep, and I would watch you sleep and think how lucky I was to have you in my life . . . I felt so safe, so loved . . . My whole world revolved around you, and I would have risked anything, even my career, if it meant being with you . . . I trusted you, and you threw it right back in my face . . . When you walked away, I didn't just lose a potential husband . . . I lost everything, the man that I loved, an incredible teacher, my best friend whom I depended on. The person who made my meals and made sure that I was eating right . . . I lost my credibility at work, the respect of some of the people that I worked with . . . I lost my faith in people . . . And I lost my way. There were days when I felt that I'd be better off dead . . . "

"Cristina, don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth . . . You know, I found your vows after you left . . . They were beautiful words and I would have given anything to hear you say them to me . . . but then again you were always good with words . . . it's putting those words into practice that you seem to have a problem with . . . I went back to the apartment that day, so sure that you would be there waiting for me . . . I had fooled myself into thinking that you didn't want to get married, but that you'd still be there, that you'd never leave me, not that way. I was s stupid . . . It would take me years to fully list what you leaving had done to me. Do you think that you could forgive me, if I had been the one to walk out on you? ...Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that?"

"Cristina, there's nothing in this world that you could do, that I couldn't forgive you for."

She laughed, "Those words sound so familiar" . . . _**"There's nothing you can reveal about yourself that I wouldn't want to know"**_ . . . "Do those words sound familiar, Burke?...Do you think that my husband would be happy to know that you followed his wife here? Or doesn't the fact that I'm married mean anything to you? ...You said that you still love me, if you do, then please leave me alone. I can't pretend that you don't affect me in very profound ways, I'd be lying . . . The first time you left me, you did it because you wanted to, this time I'm asking you to. If you cared for me at all, leave me alone."

He rarely interrupted while she spoke. He listened to every word and it broke his heart to know that he had put her through so much. He had no idea that the most devastating part of her story, and ultimately the part that pulled her through, was left untold.

She never cried. Unlike in Seattle where she was raw and emotional, she told her story without a hint of tears. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her, didn't want his pity. She spent years hoping for the day when she could tell him exactly what he had done to her, how cowardly she felt his actions were. Now that she had the opportunity, it was so anticlimactic, and all she wanted to do was to go home and hug her daughter, and tell her how much she loves her, and look into those brown eyes and remind herself that in the end, it was all worth it.

He got up and without asking her if she wanted it, got her a glass of water. She took a sip from it and gave it back to him. He pulled up his chair in front of hers and took her hands in his. And began to speak. "I wanted that marriage, I wanted you, more than anything that I've ever wanted in my life, I wanted you . . . That day, I stood at the end of that aisle, waiting for you . . . I couldn't wait to see you come down that aisle. The anticipation was killing me . . . and then I heard your voice, you were panicking, and I thought, Cristina never panics, Cristina is precise, she's steady, she never panics. I knew then that I couldn't go through with it."

"You weren't ready. I had watched you for weeks struggling with the wedding planning . . . you weren't interested . . . I watched you struggle to choose a cake, struggle to choose a dress, struggle to write your vows. You, the smartest intern, the girl who graduated at the top of her class, you were struggling to write your wedding vows. It shouldn't have been that hard, and I realized that I was forcing you into something that you weren't ready for. That day in the church, I had to make a very quick decision. It was either leaving you then, or marry you and watch our marriage fall apart."

"I don't believe in divorce. I believe that when you promise yourself to someone, you keep that promise. When I walked into that room that day, and I saw you in your wedding dress, you took my breath away. You were so beautiful, and when I turned to walk away, you looked so broken . . . I couldn't face you again, not that day . . . So I packed a few things and I left."

"I couldn't say goodbye to you, Cristina, I couldn't find the words. You had been so much a part of my life for so long. You were willing to sacrifice a part of you for me, and I couldn't let you do that because in the end you would resent me for it. So I decided to make the sacrifice. To give up on my happiness, so that in the end, you'd have yours . . . I loved you, Cristina, don't ever doubt that."

My intentions were to come back and see you, but I kept putting it off, the time was never right. For a long time I didn't work, didn't want to. I had no interest of ever holding a scalpel again . . . It couldn't get worse than that . . . When the dust settled I tried to find you, I tried everything . . . I even asked Richard for help, he refused. He never forgave me for leaving, or for what I did to you. He told me that not only did I ruin my life but that I took you along for the ride. He said that he couldn't give me a reference without mentioning the way that I handled my injury, and that I allowed you to do surgical procedures way beyond your experience . . . I resented that, but I had to accept the fact that I screwed up. I spent years trying to erase that blemish from my record.

For the first time since he started to speak, she interrupted.

"Richard did that?"

"Yes, he did."

She got up and started to pace, and he continued to speak.

"Eventually I realized that I had to rebuild my life. I got married six years ago and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. My wife's family lived there and she was going to take over her father's medical practice . . . I don't have any children, we tried but it didn't happen. My wife died two years ago, she had cancer . . . I'm not telling you this because I'm looking for any pity from you, I just need you to understand . . . It is impossible for me to tell you everything at once, and I don't know if I'll ever see you again. I want to, but it's up to you."

Something tugged at her heart when he mentioned that he didn't have any children, and she didn't hear anything else after that. She looked at her watch, it was almost daylight and she hadn't slept all night. She paced around some more and then she said "Why did you really come here?"

He thought about the question before answering, "I wanted to see you again."

She went back and sat next to him, "Thank you for telling me . . . I have to go now, I need to get some sleep. I have a meeting to attend tomorrow evening and then I go back home the day after" She got up and he picked up his keys and walked after her, "I'll walk you to your room."

They walked quietly and instead of taking the elevator, took the stairs three flights up to her room. At the door he took her key and opened it, then handed her the key, intending to leave, but she invited him in. He entered the room and immediately noticed that the rose he had given her earlier wasn't there. He thought that maybe she had thrown it out, but when she opened the bedroom door he could see the rose, still in the glass of water on the night stand next to her bed. And he glimpsed a small framed photograph of a child next to it. When she came back out, he asked, "Is that your daughter"

"Yeah"

"Can I see it?"

"Yeah"

He entered the room and picked up the photograph. The child looked eerily familiar and he thought that he might have seen her before. He took the picture back to the living room where she was pacing nervously.

"She's beautiful, Cristina."

"Yeah, she is very beautiful."

"How old is she?"

"She was seven when that picture was taken. She's nine now."

His heart skipped a beat and he looked up from the picture to Cristina, she had tears streaming down her cheeks, and he knew, even without doing the math. He walked over to her, her eyes were down cast and he tilted her chin so that he could look in her eyes. "Is she mine, Cristina?"

"Yeah"

His hand began to shake so hard that he almost dropped the picture. He wanted to scream, to be mad at her, but he couldn't. At that moment he couldn't. Whatever questions needed to be answered, could wait. He walked over to the mini bar, poured a drink and handed it to her. She swallowed it in one gulp and handed him back the glass. Her hand was shaking when he removed the glass from it. He stood before her for a long moment, and he looked from her to the picture in his hand, and back again. They look so much alike. He didn't realize that he was crying until the tears fell on the glass frame holding his daughter's picture. He reached out and took Cristina's hand, and pulled her gently into his arms. He held her so tight that she almost couldn't breathe, and he remembered the song they danced to, in Seattle, and he began to sing it to her,

_Cry, cry, baby,_

_Cry, baby . . . cry baby. Welcome back home. _


	6. Chapter 6

Pirouette Chapter 6

_The show Grey's Anatomy and the characters are the sole property of Shonda Rhimes No copyright infringement intended._

They were both exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before, so he took her to the bedroom and watched her crawl into bed, and pulled the blanket over her. Then lying next to her, he held her in his arms, stroked her hair, listened to her breathe erratically, feel her tears as it soaked through the thin fabric of his shirt. Held her until the sobs disappeared, the tears dried, the breathing returned to normal, and she slept.

It was the most intimate of moments, and as he watched her sleep, it occurred to him that they had shared that moment before. The first time, was soon after she lost the baby, and it had been the catalyst that moved their relationship forward. This time however, there was no where for them to go. They were no longer lovers and he wasn't sure if they were even friends. Most important, she belonged to someone else, and as much as he loved her, as much as he wanted her. The bonds of marriage, in his eyes, should never be broken.

He got up quietly from the bed and stood for a moment watching her as she slept. He wasn't sure why she broke down in his arms, or why she told him about their daughter. The only thing he could think of was that keeping the secret had become too much for her. It may have been easy when she had no contact with him, but maybe seeing him again had caused her to think twice, whatever her reasons, the truth was out, and with it, the questions.

Questions like, why she didn't tell him that she was pregnant? Whose name does his daughter have? Is she happy? Does she know about him? And if she does, what was she told, about the reason why, he wasn't in her life? He never imagined that he could ever feel anything but love for Cristina, but as he watched her sleep, he started to question his own feelings for her. There was no doubt in his mind that he still loved her, but he wasn't sure if his love for her could overcome the feeling of betrayal. He was afraid of what he was feeling. It was all so new to him, the feeling of helplessness, and dejection. It couldn't have hurt more if she had reached inside his chest and ripped his heart out.

Anger is such a potent emotion, in some ways just as potent as love, and as he stood there watching her, the anger threatened to overtake him. He was angry at her for what she had done. He had no idea how it would affect his daughter. He was angry at himself for always feeling this compelling need to comfort her, to love her, to make things right for her. Maybe it was because in some ways, comforting her, comforted him, but being comforted didn't ease his pain. He wanted answers, but deep down he knew that nothing that she could say, could ever justify what she had done, and no matter how much he still loved her, he wasn't sure that he could forgive her.

Sometimes the lessons we learned in our childhood, come back to protect us as adults. So remembering that his parents always told him not to do anything in anger, he walked away. Left her room, closed the door and went back to his own. It was only after he got there that he realized that he was still holding his daughter's photograph in his hand. He sat down on the bed and looked at the face of the beautiful child, smiling back at him, and he smiled. It was the first time that he smiled in weeks, and just by looking at her, he began to feel better.

Her hair was brushed back from her face and rested on her chest, just below her shoulder in asingle plait. Where her mother's hair was a mass of curls, hers looked like waves that seemed impossible to brush straight. Her eyes were his, piercing and deep brown, with a hint of mischief, but her mouth was all Cristina's. Her skin was neither his nor hers, but a combination of both. She had a small face, a cute nose that kind of reminded him of his father's. She looked like a bright-eyed little doll, dipped, in light caramel. She was gorgeous, and he instantly felt a deep connection to her. He may not have known of her existence before, but by just looking at her photograph he knew that she was unquestionably his, and everything about her, reminded him of the woman, who was asleep three floors above him.

He placed the photograph on his night stand, went back to his door and put the 'Do No Disturb' sign on, then went to bed, but sleep didn't come immediately. He couldn't get the picture of his daughter out of his head. It occurred to him that he didn't even know her name. In the midst of discovering her existence, he forgot to ask her name. Still, as her mother used to say, 'that was just details'. In time he would know her name. Until then, to him she was just "princess" and he had a feeling that he had seen her before.

He slept, and when he awoke it was late in the afternoon. He felt less exhausted but not fully rested. Checking his watch, he realized that he had slept most of the day and had missed breakfast and lunch. He wondered how Cristina was doing, then he remembered that she had told him the night before that she was meeting with friends that evening. He called her room several times, but got no answer, so he went to the hotel pool for a swim. Then he ordered room service and ate alone in his room.

Afterwards he called the airline to see if he could get a flight back to the States the next day. Cristina was leaving in the morning and he had no intention of losing contact with her again. He wanted to meet his daughter, to have a relationship with her. He had a feeling that there was a battle brewing, but he was up to the fight. His main concern was to protect their daughter at any cost. She was nine years old, still a child. He didn't know how he was going to build a relationship with her, or if she would ever accept him as her father. The only thing he could do was pray that it wasn't too late.

His life had been in limbo, like a puzzle missing its pieces. Now one by one the pieces have been found, but he wasn't sure if they fit anymore, or even if he wanted them to. The road map to his life was always dotted with certain markers. There was a place for career, financial stability, the woman he loved, marriage and eventually children. At one time or another, he had it all. Held everything in the palm of his hands, but he didn't hold on tight enough, and some slipped away. Now they were once again within his grasp, but things had changed.

The career was on hold, the woman belonged to someone else, and the money was worthless without someone to share it with. The only thing left that could bind those pieces together was the child. She was the only legacy of a love that once burned so brightly, that it was destined to burn out, but fires can be purifying, cinders once burned, can be easily ignited.

The soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and as he went to open it, he knew who would be standing on the other side. She looked rested, and there were no signs of her earlier breakdown. She entered the room, didn't accept his invitation to sit, but she kept pacing around the room like a caged tiger. He watched her, and patiently waited for what she had to say. "Her name is Arianna," she said "we sometimes call her Ari, she was born on February 15, so she just turned nine . . . she swims like a fish, loves to dance and plays the piano . . . she is learning to compose her own music. She likes horses . . . she's smart, she gets straight A's in school, but she's not only book smart, she's really smart . . . she likes to cook, I guess she got that from you . . . She has a lot of you in her, . . . you'd like her . . . I know you have questions, but I can't answer them all right now . . . I'm sorry."

He stared at her for a long time without saying a single word, and then he calmly asked her. "Is that it, Cristina? You think that by telling me her name and what she likes to do, you've answered all my questions? Do you think, that all I want to know about my daughter, can be wrapped up in ten seconds of dialogue? ...Explain to me why you didn't tell me that you were pregnant, that I had a daughter."

She looked at him, and if he was paying attention he would have seen the tears forming in her eyes again, seen the pain, but she was determined not to cry anymore, not to show any sign of vulnerability. She had gone to bed with his arms around her, and instantly, she felt like she was home. It was too familiar. It felt too good. The time apart hadn't changed the hold he had on her. He could still move her with just a glance or a simple touch. Being around him was too dangerous. She had to protect herself. So when she spoke, all he heard was defiance.

"I don't owe you any explanations."

He walked toward her, "If you truly believed that, why are you here?"

"I'm leaving" she said, heading toward the door, but he swiftly walked passed her and stood between her and the door "No, you're not" he said firmly, "you're staying here until you answer my questions."

"You can't force me to stay here."

"Try me," he countered, "you grew up without a father, you know first hand, what that was like . . . how could you subject your daughter to the same thing?"

"I didn't subject her to anything. My daughter has a father. She's had a father her entire life . . .someone who loves her and cares for her . . . "

"Correction, Cristina, that's our daughter, and she could not have had a father all her life since her father didn't even know that she exists"

"She's had a father" she shouted adamantly

"Who? ... Who might this paragon of fatherhood be, Cristina, your husband?"

"Yes, my husband, he has been a very good father to her."

He hated her at that moment, hated what she said, hated what she did, hated the fact that another man raised his daughter while he was left out of her life completely. "That would have been commendable, Cristina, if she didn't have a father, But Arianna has a father, a father who would have given anything to be a part of her life."

"You left, remember"

"I left you, not her"

If he could have taken the words back, he would have done so immediately, but there was nothing he could do. The words had already left his mouth, and he could see the look of shock on her face. This time when she attempted to leave the room, he didn't try to stop her. But as she slipped through the door, he reached out and grabbed her hand. "I didn't mean that," he said sadly, "You were always with me, right here." He placed his hand over his heart, "where it counts." She looked at him and shook her head, a sad smile forming on her lips. "Was I? ..I'm glad you found solace in that . . . and that it made you happy . . . because the only thing I ever carried around in me, for you, was your baby." Then she pulled her hand away from his, and walked away.

He leaned against the door after she left. Angry at himself for saying what he did. His parents' lessons had gone in vain. He had confronted her, while he was still very angry. The problem was, he wasn't sure if he could ever look at her again without being angry. It wasn't just the fact that she didn't tell him about his daughter, but every time he sees her, he is reminded that she was married to someone else. That she was proudly wearing another man's ring. That she took every opportunity to rub that fact in his face. He knew deep down that he shouldn't be feeling that way about her. She being married to someone else was mostly his fault, but the emotions he was experiencing were so conflicting, and nothing made sense.

He left the hotel and took a bus into the city. It was the first time that he was leaving the hotel since he arrived. It was a way to clear his head, and to see a little bit of London before returning to the States. He spent a couple of hours taking in the sites of London, and by the time he was ready to go back to the hotel, he was feeling amazingly better. He stopped in a jewellery store and looked around, but wasn't really sure what he was looking for. A sales lady asked if she could assist him, and he told her that he was looking for something for his daughter. She asked how old his daughter was and he told her nine. After refusing almost everything she showed him, he finally found it, the perfect gift for a little girl who loved to dance.

Back at the hotel, he took his daughter's photograph from the night stand and headed for Cristina's room. It, along with the gift would be an excuse to see her again. She opened the door reluctantly, but didn't offer t let him in. He handed her the photograph. "I forgot that I still had it this morning."

She didn't take it. "You can keep it." She shrugged and attempted to close the door, but he put his foot between the jam, and for a moment he thought that she was going to slam the door on his foot. He didn't move, didn't stop looking at her, and she finally gave up, left the door ajar and went into the suite. He followed her inside and sat on a chair and watched her as she stared out the window. It was a dark, cloudy night but there were a few stars in the sky.

He went and stood behind her, and fought the temptation to reach out and touch her. "Who named her?' he asked quietly

"I did" she answered

"It's a pretty name . . . I like it"

She didn't respond and he continued. "I followed you here because I wanted to see you again. I wanted to make you understand that I never meant to hurt you, but it seems like ever since I've landed all I've done is hurt you . . . I don't want us to fight . . . I never expected to hear that I fathered a child . . . I never expected . . .

She interrupted him, "I, I, I, that's all I ever hear from you. It's still all about what you want."

"That's not true Cristina, you know that's not true . . . You knew that you could have talked to me about anything, anything at all. Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?"

"I told you before, I didn't know."

"I would never have left you and the baby on your own . . . I would have taken care of you both."

"You mean like you took care of me before."

"Cristina !"

"Don't Cristina me, don't call my name."

His hand reached out to touch her, but she moved away. "This morning" he said, "when you fell asleep in my arms. It reminded me of all the other times, many years ago, when you would sleep in my arms . . . It took me a long time to get used to you not being there . . . This morning I was reminded of what it felt like to have you there . . . I don't want to think of you in someone else's arms . . . I know that I have no right to feel this way, but it's how I feel . . . It bothers me that you are married to someone else, that you so proudly wear his ring . . . It kills me that you take every opportunity to throw him in my face . . . You can give yourself to him, Cristina, but you had no right to give him my daughter."She was glad that her back was turned to him, and that he couldn't see her face. He had always been completely open with her about his feelings toward her, even in the early stages of their relationship. There was never any question about how he felt, and every word he just said, described perfectly everything she felt while she was in his arms. "Your daughter's last name is Yang. I didn't give her to anyone."

"Thank you," he said quietly, relieved that at least his daughter was not given another man's name. If she was not going to have his name, she should have her mother's, but no one else.

The phone rang and she answered it. Then she went into the bedroom and closed the door. He could hear her talking quietly, but couldn't make out what she was saying. There was a newspaper lying on the desk next to him, and for want of something to do, he started to turn the pages. When he turned the final page, lying underneath it was a small day planner. It was opened to the date April 4, He didn't want to read it, but the first word he saw was Arianna's name, and the words ballet recital 2:PM California Theatre of the performing Arts. He tore a small piece of the newspaper and quickly wrote the information down, then he put the day planner back and covered it with the newspaper.

When she came back into the room, he was sitting on the chair. She had changed into a pair of slacks and a cream-coloured blouse. She had her wallet in her hand, and she opened it and removed a small photograph from it and handed it to him. "This is a picture of her as a baby. You can have it. Arianna is not a pawn, and I don't want you to use her as one. I'll make arrangements for you to meet her if you want to, but I don't want to be pushed into anything. And I have to be sure that she is ready for this . . . You blame me for not telling you that I was pregnant, but I really didn't know until after you ditched me. Maybe you should go back and check with all the women that you've had sex with over the years, and see if there are any more children that you don't know about. I wouldn't want my daughter to grow up and start dating one of her half siblings. So the next time you decide to screw someone, listen when she tells you that she didn't take her pills and that you should wear a condom . . . close the door when you leave."


	7. Chapter 7

Pirouette Chapter 7

_The show Grey's Anatomy and the characters are the sole property of Shonda Rhimes No copyright infringement intended. __**Chapter seven contains some mature content.**_

For the second time since arriving in London, she walked out of her hotel room and left him there. He didn't care about her comments regarding other children. He had only had sex with two women in the past ten years and one of them was dead. The other was Cristina. Her last comments about birth control pills and condoms concerned him. What was she trying to tell him? He had always used a condom with her, even after insisting that she should take her pills. He knew that she had a tendency to forget to take them, and many times he had to hand her a glass of water and her pills just to be sure. She hated the pills, but she hated him wearing a condom more.

He would never knowingly risk her getting pregnant. The first pregnancy was bad enough and he knew that if she got pregnant again, he would have wanted her to keep the baby. He started to think about their time together, just before the end, and it dawned on him. He knew exactly when Cristina got pregnant, and she knew too. If he was right, Cristina would never have known that she was pregnant before he left, and if anyone was to be blamed, it should be him.

_He had gotten home from work one evening to find her curled up in the couch studying. It was a __couple of weeks before her first year intern's exam. The same day they had chosen the cake for their wedding. It had been a long stressful day. He'd had cake samples delivered to the hospital but had a hard time getting her to choose one. By the time he had gotten home that evening he had almost given up. Unbeknownst to her, he had made a decision on a cake. But he was disappointed that she showed no interest in even the simplest part of their wedding plans. __She was always too busy studying, or too stressed out from work. _

_In reality he had always __suspected that the time she spent with her friends studying was just a cover. She didn't need the flash cards or her friends. From what he knew about her she never studied for an exam in her life, never had to cram, her memory was somewhat photographic. That evening, on the couch, when he asked her if she had chosen a cake, she had told him yes, the red one. It was the same cake that he had selected hours before, the red velvet cake. The joy he felt that she had not only chosen a cake, but the cake, was hard to put into words. So he had casually reached over, removed the flash cards from her hands, and kissed her. He didn't expect her to __return the kiss, didn't expect the warmth of her reception that night, they had been on tentative grounds._

_When he kissed her that night, she welcomed it, wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs __around his hips, holding him to her. She practically melted into him. He had tried to take her from the couch to the bedroom but she wouldn't let him. Instead, she had taken over, laid him out on the couch, or maybe he laid himself out, a gift to her. All he remembered was that for that night he was hers and anything she wanted. She got. He'd watched her as she straddled him, stripped him of every bit of clothing, struggled to breathe as she took him in her hands, gently squeezed him, watched him as he grew bigger, felt him throb. Ached when she bent over, blew warm air upon him, but nothing more. He wanted more. The man inside of him wanted to be in charge, but painful as it was, he wanted to give her time, let her have her fun. _

_It was like a game to her, to see how far she could go before he couldn't take it anymore.__If her aim was to make him want her more, she was succeeding, and while she seemed in full control of what she was doing, he was losing his mind. She released him for a moment, then laid __flat on top of him, motionless, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathes erratically. Feeling him throb against her lower body, seeking, but unable to find. When he thought that she had amused herself enough, he stirred, but she pressed hard against him and he became still. Then she reached up and cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, sweet, soft, nothing rushed. It wasn't something he expected from her, and when she whispered "I love you" his heart skipped a beat and he returned the kiss, just as gentle, still following her lead._

_Then without warning, she hoisted herself above him and came back down slowly, impaling herself upon him. Whatever little self control he had left was lost, and so he had spun her over so that she was now laying on her back, on the couch, still cradling him inside her. With every thrust she took him on a heavenly journey, and all life's problems disappeared. And for a while there was just the two of them. There were no wedding plans, no studying, no work. Just two people consumed by passion. Sharing each other's body, flesh to flesh Then a moment of awareness entered the equation, and she whispered in his ear, "I didn't take my pill, you should use a condom."_

_But he had clung to her, "No" he told her, in a voice so hoarse he hardly recognized it as his own. "Tonight I want you, to feel you, . . . just you, no obstructions."_

_She never protested, and he felt that she had wanted him, just the same, nothing between them. no obstructions. He felt free, and it never once crossed his mind that she may become pregnant. She wanted to feel him too, and he didn't hold back. He felt as if he was on a mission that night, to leave his mark upon her, to brand her as his own. So that everyone would know to whom she belonged. In retrospect he left more than his mark upon her that night, and he has never been able to love the same since._

_What started off that night as soft and gentle, ended in a crescendo of fierce thrusts, tangled limbs and screams suppressed. He experienced again what it was like to be with her, inside her, flesh to flesh. He felt every quiver, touched every nerve, felt her body tighten around him, taking him deeper. They rode until they couldn't, until the very breath that kept them alive threatened to fail them. She had never been more animated. He had never felt more loved. Then finally the juices flowed unobstructed, from him to her, deep within her. Filling her, leaving him drained, limp, unable to move._

_There was something infinitely magical about that night, and as he kissed away the tears streaming down her cheeks, and kissed her trembling lips, she tried to say something, but couldn't. When he tried to ease off her, she clutched him tighter, so he rolled over unto his back, taking her with him, still attached to him. She lay on top of him, and he held her until she began to sleep, then he took her to the bedroom, and laid her on the bed. It was the last time they made love. He had decided to abstain until their wedding night._

The little girl in the pale pink costume fluttered across the stage as if she was floating on air. She was a special guest at this recital, a tiny child amongst a sea of grown up professionals. She appeared oblivious to the fact that she was the baby of the group, and that to most, she didn't belong there. She was too young, didn't have enough training, but from the moment the curtains parted and she floated across the stage, no one questioned, where she belonged.

She walked to the centre of the stage, the spotlight focussed entirely on her. Lithe, graceful and poised, she commanded the stage as if she were a seasoned professional, and it was hard to believe that she had just recently celebrated her ninth birthday. She posed and as if this was their cue, the audience became completely silent. For a brief moment she seemed uncertain and looked toward the audience as if she was looking for someone special, then she found her, and smiled.

A ribbon on her pointe shoe became loose which caused her to abandon her pose in order to tie it. Then, she posed again, and as the first note of Frank Mills' " Music Box Dancer" started to play, she lifted her arms in a movement reminiscent of a butterfly flapping its wings, and the dance began. It was hard to imagine that someone so young, could captivate an audience that sophisticated, but captivate them she did, and for three minutes she transported them on a journey of pure perfection. Every movement, every jump, every perch on her tiny toes was something to behold. Her steps were intricate and fluid and the spot light followed her as she floated across the stage, effortlessly and light as a butterfly.

It didn't matter that some in the audience didn't know the difference between a relevé and a fouetté, they knew that they were witnessing something extraordinary. The music was coming to an end, and with one final pirouette, she ended her dance with the same pose with which she started. The applause from the audience went on endlessly. Everyone rose on their feet, including him. This was his first ballet recital, but he knew that it wouldn't be his last. He had seen that pose before, seen that exquisite little face. Someone had sent him a picture soon after Laurel died, but he had just recently realized that the child was his daughter.

Preston Burke sat back quietly in his seat, and watched as she left the stage. Even in her walking, she had the air of a dancer. She seemed to walk more on her toes than on her feet. She was slender and seemed mature way beyond her years. It was impossible not to see Cristina in her, the way she held her head, the soft pout in her lips, the abundance of dark hair. She would have been a carbon copy of her mother, if not for her eyes, and that light caramel tone to her skin.

The evening progressed and as the final performance ended, the MC called the dancers back on stage to take a final bow. Arianna returned barefooted, holding her ballet shoes in her hand behind her back. She smiled a lot, held hands with the other dancers and although she was the youngest, she seemed to fit right in. She received the longest and loudest applause, and then she left the stage, for the final time that evening. He sat there for a short time after she left, soaking in the moment, carving it in his memory. There would never be another moment like it, the moment he first saw his daughter, in person.

In an effort to leave before everyone else, he slipped out quietly and headed for the parking lot. In one hand he carried a copy of the evening's programme, a souvenir that he would keep forever. In the other he had his sunglasses and keys. He wanted to leave before he was seen. It had only been a week since he left London, a week since he had seen Cristina. He didn't want her to know that he was there, that he had found the information about the recital in her day planner. He was prepared to wait until she contacted him with arrangements to meet his daughter, but he was not willing to wait too long.

_Their last night in London hadn't turned out the way he expected it to. She came back late from dinner with her friends, brushed her teeth, changed and went directly to bed. The fact that she totally ignored his presence didn't bother him. He knew her well enough to know that she was testing him. To any outsider theirs may seem like an odd relationship, but to him there was nothing odd about them; they were just Burke and Cristina, and no one else could define their relationship, but themselves._

_He walked into the bedroom and stood by the side of the bed listening for some indication that she was asleep. He didn't hear a thing, no snoring, not even the sound of her breathing. The only sound came from outside where the wind kept on howling against the window as if it wanted to come in. London lived up to its reputation and it rained most of the night. He didn't want to leave without speaking to her, knew that if he did, there was a good chance that he wouldn't see her again for a long time. Bending down next to the bed, he called her name but got no answer, then he reached out and brushed a finger against her cheek, and it was wet._

_Without thinking he got in the bed and lay next to her. It seemed such a natural thing for him to do, that he never thought about the implications. He didn't touch her, just laid there flat on his back looking up at the ceiling. "Married women aren't supposed to go to bed crying," he said, more to himself than to her. He didn't expect her to comment, in fact he was beginning to think that she was really asleep, and then she spoke. "You're not supposed to be in bed with a married woman."_

_"If you were my wife, you'd never go to bed crying."_

_She turned her head and looked at him, an incredulous look on her face __"I went to bed crying many times when we were together."_

_He sighed, a sigh of resignation, because he knew that she was right, she had cried many times before, especially during his recovery. Sometimes he would let her cry without interrupting, not wanting her to know that he heard her, she wouldn't have wanted him to know. "Yeah, you did, but I was always there to hold you."_

_"Not always" she said sadly, and he knew that she was not referring to the times when they were together, but afterwards._

_"I'm sorry"_

_"I'm so sick of hearing you say that"_

_"then forgive me, and I won't say it again"_

_"I don't want you to hold me." Her voice was merely a whisper_

_"I don't want to hold you, Cristina, I will not be the reason you commit adultery."_

_"Who says that I want to commit adultery? ...You can fool yourself into believing that the reason you're here is so we can be friends, so I can forgive you, you know that's not entirely true."_

_He couldn't say anything in response, There was too much truth in what she said. He wasn't there just to be forgiven, deep down he knew that despite her actions, she already forgave him._

_"I hate that you're married."_

_"Good . . . does it hurt?"_

_"Yeah"_

_"Good"_

_"Can I hold you now?"_

_"No!"_

_"Please!"_

_She didn't acknowledge his plea, didn't say a word. They both just lay there, listening to the sound of the wind and the rain battering against the window pane. Then the thunder roared, and lightening cracked through the night sky, penetrating the window and its curtains, illuminating their bodies lying motionless on the bed. Then as if his body were a magnet, she moved closer to him, and he turned and wrapped his arms around her, and they were home, for that one night._

She would never know how hard that was for him. Nor would he know how painful it was for her, to be so close together and yet so far. Ten years had passed and yet some things still remained the same. He would still do anything for her. She would still, in her own way, be there for him, regardless of the consequences. They would always take care of one another, even in the midst of all the turmoil, of all the pain. They owed each other that one night. So they slept, the most peaceful sleep that either of them has had in weeks, and the next morning he got up and left her, before her friends came to pick her up for the airport. He had said that he would not be the reason why she commits adultery, but she knew that even though they might not have done so in the physical sense, emotionally they did.

They never said goodbye. Whether it was a conscious decision or not, was not really clear, but there was a finality in goodbye, that neither one of them wanted to accept. So five hours after she left London, he boarded a plane back to the States. Now here he was in a parking lot, trying to avoid her. He had gotten a quick glimpse of her during Arianna's performance. She was sitting in the front, while he was seated in the back, making it almost impossible for her to see him. She was not alone, her mother was with her along with other persons whom he didn't recognize. One person, however, was curiously absent, the man whom Cristina, called husband, and his daughter, father.

He had done his own research on Dr. Alexander Carlson. Except for the fact that he was old enough to be Cristina's father, he could find nothing incriminating about the man. In fact, everything he read about Dr. Carlson, indicated that he was a fine upstanding citizen, and a brilliant Research Scientist. He was employed by NASA and worked extensively on the Space Shuttle program. He was from a wealthy family and was big on philanthropy, and if the internet was to be believed, doted on his wife and young daughter.

Deep in thought, he paid very little attention to where he was going, and collided right into a young woman whom he recognized as one of the dancers from the recital. She had a handful of files and they fell to the ground, scattering papers all around. He apologized to her and bent down to help her retrieve the papers, then headed for his car. As he was about to open the door, he heard a child's voice say "Mister, you dropped something"

He looked down and saw nothing, so thinking that the child was not speaking to him, he opened the car door and entered. But almost immediately there was a knock on his window and he looked out to see the beautiful face of his daughter, looking back at him. He started to wind the window down but changed his mind and got out of the car instead.

She had changed out of her ballet clothes and was now dressed in blue denim shorts and light a blue T-shirt, with the name of her dance school printed on the front. She wore sandals and was holding a bottle of water in one hand. Her hair was loose. Released from all the pins and clips used to hold it in an up-do for the performance, it now fell just below her shoulders in a mass of curls. She reached out her hand. She was holding the program which he had dropped when he collided with the dancer. "You dropped this." She said shyly, and he loved the sound of her voice, it was a little girl's voice tinged with the raspiness, of an old soul. Momentarily transfixed, he didn't take the program from her, instead he just stood there staring. Then realizing that he was making her uncomfortable, he took the program from her small hand and said "Thank you."

She smiled and responded with "You're welcome, mister." Then started to walk away, but he couldn't let her go. He wanted more time with her, to listen to her talk, to look at her beautiful face that reminded him so much of Cristina. Before she got too far her called out to her, "Hey, little one," She turned around and answered him, "Yes sir"

"What was the name of the music you danced to?"

She came back toward him, her face lighting up. She seemed excited that he was interested in her dance.

"Did you like it?" She asked him, instead of answering his question.

"I loved it, and you danced beautifully," he told her, unable to erase the pride that he felt from his voice. She had to look way up to see his face, so he bent down so that he would be closer to her.

"It's called 'The Music Box Dancer" she told him, "It's my favourite"

He took off his glasses and smiled at her, and for the briefest of moments he thought he saw a strange look on her face. Her eyes seemed to open wider, like a moment of recognition, and then there was nothing, but she continued to look at him, and it broke his heart. He wanted to reach out and hug her, to tell her who he was, but he couldn't. He was a stranger to her and he didn't want to scare her. "So you like the piano then?" He asked.

She smiled and answered with excitement in her voice. "Yes, I do. . . some day I'm going to have my own studio, and I'm going to teach dance and music."

He smiled and he felt proud that he was her father. "You'll be an excellent teacher," he told her, "You've taught us all something today."

She seemed surprised to hear him say that, "I did?"

"Yes, you did" He told her, and watched her as she thought about what he said, before asking,

"what did I teach you today?"

"You taught me that having a daughter is a wonderful thing."

She smiled, Cristina's smile, but her whole face seemed to light up when she smiled, and she

exudes the warmth and innocence that only a child possess, "having a daughter is the best thing in the whole world."

"Oh, who told you that?"

"No one" she told him. "I know, I'm a daughter."

"You sure are," he responded, smiling back at her, and she suddenly became serious, looking him straight in his eyes, before asking,

Do you have a daughter, mister?" Her question broke his heart, but he didn't hesitate in answering

"Yes, I have a daughter."

"How old is your daughter?"

"She's about your age," he said, and watched her pause again as if she was in deep thought

"Did she come with you to the recital?"

"No, she didn't."

"Does she like to dance?"

He reached out and pushed a wayward lock of hair back from her face. As he did so he noticed

the small specks of moisture on her nose, a trait that he had only seen in one other person, his mother, who always perspired on her nose.

"She loves to dance" he told her, but his conversation was cut short by the young woman waiting for Arianna. She was the same girl, whom he had collided with earlier. She called out,

"Come on Arianna, your mommy must be wondering where we are"

"That's Natalia," Arianna told him, "she's really nice, she just pretends to be strict . . . she teaches me to dance, maybe you could bring your daughter to my dance school, she'd like it."

He got up from his crouching position and looked across at the young woman, who was his daughter's dance teacher, she quickly gave him a disapproving look. He realized that he shouldn't have touched Arianna, and stepped away from her immediately. He was glad to see that she was being protected, and even though he wanted to talk to her more, knew that he had to let her go. So he turned to his daughter, and thanking god that he was wearing dark glasses, he said goodbye. "Thank you for making my first ballet recital such a memorable experience, princess . . . You're going to be a wonderful dance and music teacher, some day."

She smiled, said "thank you" and walked over to Natalia, and taking her hand, they walked away and disappeared through the side door of the building.

He sat in his car for a few moments, then slowly started to drive away. As he passed the doors, he had a strange feeling that someone was watching him, so he looked through his rear view mirror and there she was, a tiny, solitary figure standing in the doorway, watching him as he leaves. He drove as slowly as he could, not wanting to lose sight of that little face. He loved her. She was sweet and brilliant and so brave to be on that stage in front of so many people, without exhibiting any fear at all. She was all new to him, like a baby, only she wasn't. She was presented to him at nine years instead of nine months, clothed in a pink ballet dress instead of wrapped in a blanket. He wasn't her first teacher, didn't teach her how to ride her bike or tie her shoe laces, wasn't there for the skinned knees or bed time stories. Instead on the first day he met his daughter, she taught him that he carried within himself, the capacity to love, in its purest form, and like her mother, tugs at the very core of his heart.

After a restless night he awoke the next morning and made a few phone calls to Arizona. His Leave of absence would be coming to an end soon, and he needed to make a decision on whether or not he wanted to go back to work or resign completely. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He had just met his daughter and even though it was not an official introduction, he knew that it was just a matter of time. He couldn't go back to living in one state and her in another, and he didn't want to make a commitment that would keep them apart. He was financially secure and could live quite comfortably even if he never held another scalpel, but medicine was in his blood, and surgery was what kept him sane during all those years of turmoil.

There was a knock at the door and expecting room service, he went immediately to open it, but he got the shock of his life instead. Standing off to the side, leaning against the door frame was Cristina. Her presence at his hotel surprised him, he hadn't told her that he was in California, and he had no idea how she found him. But he was so happy to see her that without thinking he reached out to touch her but she backed away.

"Cristina" he called her name, and she quickly put her finger to her lips and whispered, "shh."

Taken aback for a moment, he stepped forward and looked down both hallways, but saw no one.

Then from behind Cristina, a little head crowned by a mass of curly hair peeked out.

Burke looked from Cristina to the child now standing next to her, then back at Cristina. His eyes asking the questions, his mouth couldn't. In a matter of seconds his entire life flashed in front of his eyes. He saw his first meeting with Cristina, the brash young intern with hair not unlike their daughter's. He saw the pain in her eyes, at the first loss of a patient. He saw their first kiss, their first break up, and the tragic loss of their first baby. He saw her acknowledgement that they were a couple, the pain of being shot and the dreadful period during his recovery. He saw the deception that lead to their biggest fight, and could have cost them their relationship as well as their careers. He saw again the shocked look on her face and the tears in her eyes the night he proposed. Experienced again the joy and exhilaration of the night she said yes. Saw the cake, the flowers, the people, friends and family, everyone together to celebrate a wedding that would never be. He heard her panicked voice after she discovered, that she had scrubbed off her vows. Saw the people in the church watching him as he made that long walk down the aisle. Remembered his pause at the door as he realized that once he opened it, their lives would be changed forever. Remembered looking at the woman he loved, knowing that he would never see her again, reliving the excruciating pain of telling her he was letting her go. Remembered the look in her eyes when she realized what, he was doing.

It had been a long painful journey that had brought them finally to this place, and as he looked from his daughter to Cristina, the only thing he felt was love. Love for the child he had always wanted, but never knew he had. Love for the mother of that child regardless of what she had done. She was as much a part of him as the air that he breathed, it had been that way from the very moment they met, all those years ago.

He looked down at his daughter, and with arms wide opened, he went down on his knees, and she stepped right in and wrapped her small arms around his neck. Resting her head on his shoulder, her face buried, in the crook of his neck. He closed the circle, wrapped her in an embrace full of love and unbridled emotion. It was a moment ten years in the making. He experienced what it was like to be a father, holding his child for the very first time. Felt his daughter's heart beat and hear her say the word that he had always wanted to hear, but thought he never would. Closed his eyes tightly, in order to fight back the tears, as his daughter whispered in his ear. "Hi daddy"


	8. Chapter 8

Pirouette Chapter 8

_The show Grey's Anatomy and the characters are the sole property of Shonda Rhimes and does not belong to me._

"Hi daddy"

He had heard those words before in reference to other fathers. Had spoken those words himself in reference to his own father, but nothing prepared him for the impact those words would have in reference to himself. It was as if his entire life had been a giant practice session for this one thrilling moment, the moment he held his daughter in his arms and heard her call him daddy, for the first time.

He had never been overly emotional, except when that emotion had to do with Cristina, now as he held onto Arianna, he looked at Cristina, and although she remained stoic, there was no mistaking the unshed tears in her eyes. He didn't know how she found him, but he had a feeling that Arianna had something to do with it. After a few moments of hugging her, he reluctantly held her away from him and asked "You knew" and she nodded her head, indicating yes. She seemed much more reserved than when they met the day before, a far cry from the confident little girl on the stage. Her eyes didn't glisten with excitement like it did when she told him that she was going to have her own dance studio some day. Maybe it was because then, he was a stranger to her, now he was her father. Whatever the reason, he didn't want to see her looking sad, and so he took her in his arms again and told her, "It's ok, princess, everything is going to be ok" Then father and daughter hugged again, and Cristina quietly walked away.

When she got to the elevator, she stood at the door and for a moment looked back at them. She had prepared her daughter for this moment her entire life. She just didn't expect the moment to be so soon. She had always been open with her. She knew who her father was, even knew what he looked like. She had her own photo album of him and in many ways, knew more about her father than some children who were living with their fathers. Over the years she had watched her daughter bond with the picture of a man she didn't even know. _"He's cute, isn't he, mommy, . . . Do you think he would like me, mommy? I think I look like my daddy . . . Tell me another story about my daddy"_ all the little, things that her daughter had said, now flooded back in her head.

She had done a good job raising her daughter, everyone said so, but what everyone said was not important to Cristina. What was important was that her daughter had to know that she was loved. That aside from the father who raised her, she had a father who was genetically a part of her. Someone whom she looks like, whom she sometimes thinks like, someone whose annoying little habits she inherited, things like her veracious appetite for reading and being extremely neat and tidy. Someone who was so intrinsically a part of her that even though they were apart, nothing could diminish his influence in her life.

Arianna had always been encouraged to talk to her mother about anything and everything, and she did. She loved her mother with a passion, another trait she inherited from her father. If she was upset, Cristina could always soothe her, it had been that way since she was a baby. But last night had been different. Arianna could not be soothed, and for the first time in her life Cristina recognized in her daughter a need that she never saw before. The need to know and be loved by the man who was her father, that need was not an indictment against the man, who had been like a father to her all her life. It was a need born at first from pure curiosity, then as Arianna got older, her questions about her father became harder to answer.

As Cristina watched them, her daughter wrapped in those big secure arms, she couldn't help but feel a little bit melancholy. They were both so demonstrative, so much alike, and the nine years of not knowing each other seemed to disappear as they got lost in the moment. The memories of the night before came flooding back, and it saddened her, for as much as she was happy that Arianna had finally met her father, she felt an ache deep in her heart. Things would never be the same again, for she would always have to share her daughter, with the man who broke her heart. So she watched them, and thought about the events from the night before, that lead them to this moment.

_She had arrived home at around nine o'clock the night before, after making a quick detour to the hospital to check on a patient, soon after Arianna's performance. Arianna was taken home by her grandmother. The house was quiet when she walked in, as if everyone had already gone to bed. This was strange because Arianna always waited up for her mother, unless she had school the following day. She immediately went to Ari's room but Arianna wasn't in her bed, so she went to the family room, Arianna wasn't there either, but her mother was._

_Mrs. Rubinstein was sitting on the couch knitting when Cristina walked in, and as Cristina asked "mom, where's Ari?" she put her knitting away and looked at her daughter,_

"_Come sit with me Cristina, I think we need to talk"_

_Cristina didn't like the way her mother sounded and so she asked again, a little frantic "Mom, where's Ari"_

"_Arianna is fine Cristina. She is in her bed."_

"_She's not in her bed, mom, I looked"_

"_Then if she's not in her bed, Cristina, you know where she is, where she always goes when she is upset. She is upset, she's mad at me, she's mad at you"_

"_Mad at me?"_

"_Yes" her mother responded "and she is mad at a man she met in the parking lot today after her recital."_

_Cristina immediately became concerned. "What man?"_

_And so Mrs. Rubinstein relayed to her daughter, a conversation she had with Arianna, about a man she met in the parking lot after her recital, a man who called her princess, a man she believed to be her father._

_After speaking with her mother, Cristina walked slowly to her own bedroom, she knew that she would find Arianna there. It was a common practice for her to sleep in her mother's bed whenever she was upset about anything. She had been doing it since she was quite young, but lately she had become more independent. Her sleeping in Cristina's bed was a clear indication of how upset she was._

_As she opened the door to her bedroom, Cristina could clearly see the outline of the small figure in the oversized bed. When she got closer, she could see that Arianna was not sleeping. She sat on the edge of the bed, and for a few moments said, nothing, she just reached out and started to stroke her daughter's hair, brushing it back with her fingers, making her face more visible. _

_Then she noticed that Arianna's eyes were red that she had been crying. So she pulled the covers back and got in the bed next to her. Sitting upright, her back resting against the headboard, she pulled her daughter closer until her head rested in her lap, and continued stroking her hair. It was an old ritual for them, and for a brief moment she is reminded of the baby, Arianna, who would always fall asleep, when her mother strokes her hair. _

_The severity of the situation reinforced the reality that Arianna wasn't a baby anymore. In fact she could barely be called a little girl. She was quickly growing up, and Cristina experienced for the first time, what mothers before her, came to know; that there is so much in life that you can't protect your children from. That there are some things that as a parent will render you useless. It broke her heart to see her daughter hurt, and she knew that the time had come._

"_Grandma told me that you met a man today, can you tell me about him?"_

"_I don't wanna talk about it, mommy."_

_Cristina knew that "I don't wanna talk about it, mommy" was her daughter's way of saying, I'm mad at you mommy, and that her daughter really needed to talk._

"_Ari, this is important. Describe him to me."_

"_It's him, mommy"_

"_It's who, baby?"_

"_My dad"_

_The words jolted Cristina, Arianna had never sounded so certain, or so sad, but Burke had promised Cristina that he would wait for her to arrange a meeting. She couldn't see him deliberately going behind her back to see Arianna. Besides, he wouldn't have known about the recital._

"_Are you sure, Ari?"_

"_Yes"_

_Cristina continued to stroke her daughter's hair. Arianna was a smart kid and seemed convinced of whom she met._

"_How did you meet this man?"_

"_Natalia and I were going to her car and he bumped into Natalia and scattered all her stuff on the ground. He helped her to pick them up, but he dropped something and I took it to his car and gave it back to him."_

"_What did he drop?"_

"_It was a program from the recital. I gave it back and he said, thank you. He said it was a souvenir because it was his first ballet recital. He said that he liked my performance. I told him that I wanted to open my own dance studio some day, and he said that I will be an excellent dance teacher. He said that he learned something from me today. I asked him what and he said that "having a daughter is a wonderful thing." I asked him if he had a daughter and he said yes, that she was about my age. He pushed my hair back from my face, just like you always do, and he said thanks for making his first ballet recital so memorable. He called me princess. Then Natalia gave him a nasty look for touching me, and that was when he said goodbye."_

_Cristina was at a loss for words, everything Arianna said sounded like something Burke would say and do, but she still wasn't sure._

"_Seemed like you had quite a conversation with this man."_

"_He's not a man, he's my dad" _

"_Did he say that he was your father?"_

"_No, he didn't . . . you lied to me mommy. . .You said that you would never lie to me . . . you told me that he loved me . . . you said that he would know me if he sees me. How come he didn't know me, mommy? ... How come I knew him, but he didn't know that it was I." She started to cry, and all Cristina could do, was to take her in her arms and hold her. After the crying subsided, Cristina asked._

"_Ari, are you sure?"_

"_I'm sure mommy . . . At first I wasn't, he just looked familiar. Then he smiled at me, mommy, he looked just like this, except he has a little bit of beard" and she reached under her pillow and brought out a picture of her father that Cristina had given her years before. It was the same picture she had taken to school for show and tell, when she was in the third grade. It was taken at Seattle Grace. Burke was wearing his scrubs and the same scrub cap that he was wearing the day Cristina and Meredith accosted him in the men's room. He was standing in an empty OR, surrounded by shiny, sterile surgical instruments, a scalpel in his hand as if he was demonstrating a surgical procedure. He was smiling, the quintessential Burke white teeth, beautiful smile. What wasn't apparent in the picture was that off to the side, the person he was smiling at was Cristina. The photograph and the conviction with which Arianna spoke, lead Cristina to believe that Arianna was not mistaken. The man she met in the parking lot was Burke_

"_I didn't lie to you Ari. "If the man you met today was your father, he knew that it was you. In fact, I think the only reason that he was at that recital was because of you."_

"_He didn't know me, mommy, he said he had another daughter and she's around my age . . . He doesn't love me, mommy, he's got some other daughter, to love."_

"_No baby, he loves you, you're the only kid he's got, and even if he had a million other kids, he'd still love you."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Of course I'm sure . . . Besides, who wouldn't love you? Now, are you gonna go back to your own bed, or are you staying here tonight?"_

"_I want to stay here"_

"_Ok, you can stay here, but no more tears, you're gonna make your grandma think that I'm a terrible mother."_

_For the first time that night Arianna smiled, "Grandma thinks that you're a great mother"_

"_How do you know that?"_

"_Grandma told me, she said you're a better mother than she ever was."_

_Smiling slightly, she pulled the covers over her daughter and kissed her on her cheek, good night, baby, don't forget that you are my favourite daughter."_

"_I'm your only daughter" Arianna answered sleepily _

_So Cristina held her daughter till she fell asleep, then went to her office to make a few phone calls, before going to bed. It was a quiet weekend at her house, and she was thankful for that. Her mother was spending the weekend, and had gone to bed after talking to Cristina. As she laid there, watching her daughter sleep, she couldn't hold back the tears. Arianna was unhappy, and she was now paying the price for the decision she made so many years ago, The decision to not tell Burke about his daughter. No matter how right the decision seemed at the time, she now knows that it was wrong. So as her daughter slept, she made a decision which would have the greatest impact on their lives since the day she first met him._

_Early the next morning she was awakened by Arianna shaking her, and when she asked sleepily, "what is it Ari?" Her daughter answered _

"_Mommy, I wanna see my dad."_

�


	9. Chapter 9

Pirouette Chapter 9

_The show Grey's Anatomy and the characters are the sole property of Shonda Rhimes and does not belong to me._

And so it was, that early the next morning, after making those phone calls the night before, she arrived at his hotel, her daughter in tow. Now, looking at them she couldn't help but feel sad. It shouldn't have been that way, Arianna needed her father, and she blamed herself for not recognizing that need before. She hoped that it wasn't too late. That having had a step father in her life would help to ease whatever anxiety Arianna may feel about not having her own father in her life. Deep down, Cristina doubted it. Having a step father in her own life didn't ease the pain of losing her dad. The only difference was that while Cristina lost her father at age nine, Arianna was just discovering hers.

The elevator doors opened and with that Burke looked up, seemingly unaware that Cristina was leaving. Upon seeing her, he called out her name but the door closed and she was gone. He quickly turned to his daughter, "baby, can you stay here for me just for a minute, I have to talk to your mommy."

"Ok, daddy"

Burke smiled, he loved the sound of those words. "I'm closing the door, don't open it until I get back, ok, I won't be long,"

He closed the door and instead of waiting on the other elevator he took ran down the stairs. When he got to the hotel lobby, he didn't see her. He stood at the elevators and waited. When the doors finally opened, she was surprised to see him standing there. "I'm getting too old to be running down staircases after you."

"I didn't ask you to run after me."

He took her hand and lead her to a section of the lobby where there was no one else, and asked "Why are you leaving? ...You can't just leave her, she doesn't know me, Cristina."

"You should have thought about that before you introduced yourself to my daughter . . . You promised me that you'd wait . . . Why couldn't you, and how did you know about the recital?"

"Cristina, I didn't introduce myself to her, I tried to leave before the end, it was quite by accident that I ran into her . . . I had no idea that she would know who I was."

"She knows who you are, and, she thinks that you didn't know who she was, she didn't sleep well last night."

"How did she know who I was?"

I asked her, she said you smiled, and you looked like your picture . . . "She's not stupid Burke, in fact she may just be the smartest nine-year-old you'll ever meet."

"Come back to the room with me, just for a while, I don't want to leave her alone for too long."

" I can't, I'll pick her up at five o'clock, she already knows that. Just make sure that she sleeps some time during the day. She has school tomorrow." She turned to walk away and he held onto her hand.

"Thank you for bringing her to me. Thank you for having her and for taking such good care of her all these years. She is a beautiful child, and I am so proud of you for being the kind of mother you are. I don't know what kind of father I'll be, and to be honest I'm a little bit scared, but I promise you, I won't do anything to upset her further, to interfere with her life the way it is. I just want to be a part of her life. I want to know her and for her to know me."

Cristina tried hard to keep her composure, but between last night with Arianna, and now with Burke she was drained. "She thinks that I lied to her. I've always told her, that you would know her, if you see her. She said that you didn't know her yesterday, she wanted to know how come she knew you, and you didn't know her . . . please let her know that you knew who she was."

"I will."

He watched her walk away, and his heart ached. They should be a family, he, Cristina and Arianna. They should be spending the day together, instead she was dropping their daughter off for a visit. It seemed so surreal. He had never imagined his life to be like this. She was probably going back to spend the day with her husband. For the first time he actually envied the man, for not only did he have his daughter, he had the woman that Burke loved, but was stupid enough to let go.

He ran back to his hotel room, not wanting to leave his daughter unattended for more than he had to. As soon as he opened the door she was standing there as if she never left the spot. 

Now that Cristina wasn't with them, he felt even more nervous. But she immediately set his mind at ease. "Mommy said that you should take me for breakfast. I couldn't eat this morning, I was too excited." 

He looked at her and smiled, thinking that they both had something in common. "Ok, so we'll go to breakfast then. What do you like to eat?"

"Lots of stuff"

"Ok, lots of stuff it is . . . what would you like to do after we eat lots of stuff."

"There's no meal called lots of stuff, daddy, I just mean that I eat a lot of things."

"Really, one day I'll take you to Alabama, and you'll meet my mother and father, and my mom will make you a meal in her restaurant and I'll tell her to call it 'lots of stuff' in honour of you."

"My grandma owns a restaurant?"

"Yes, and she will love you."

"Do you love me, daddy?"

"I love you, princess, more than anything."

Arianna thought for a moment, and he could tell that she was trying in her own way, to understand how he could love her and not be a part of her life.

"Your mommy didn't lie to you, Arianna. I would have known you anywhere. I knew who you were yesterday, but I wasn't sure if you would know me, and I didn't want to scare you."

"You wouldn't scare me."

He reached out and touched her cheek, "I know that now, princess, now, lets find us a restaurant where we can eat 'lots of stuff.' "

His daughter laughed out loud then, and he could hear Cristina even in the way she laughs. "You sound like Cristina when you laugh."

"I know. Everyone says that,Why do you call me princess?"

"Because that's who you are, you're my little princess."

They took the elevator to the hotel restaurant on the ground floor, and spent an hour eating and getting to know each other. He learned that his daughter was brilliant, although he wouldn't expect anything less from a child of Cristina's. It didn't occur to him that his daughter exhibited a lot more of his characteristics, than Cristina.'s. They talk so much that they didn't realize how much time had passed, until the waiter came over to see if he could help them with anything else.

They went back to the room for a short time, then to the beach where they walked bare feet in the sand, and talked some more about their lives. They built a sandcastle and watched as it was washed away by a giant wave, and sat on the sand and talked some more. She told him about school and dancing and about a boy whom she said she didn't like, but talked a lot about. At one point Arianna, thinking that he wasn't seeing her, sat quietly watching him. Then out of the blue she said, with a touch of wonder in her voice, "I really do look like you!"

Burke, startled by the revelation, smiled at his daughter, "Yes, you do look like me."

"I've never looked like anyone before,... well, like mommy a little bit... but I don't look like the rest of my family . . . I'm glad I look like you."

It almost brought tears to his eyes to hear her say that, but he didn't want her to see the effect her words had on him. So for the second time in as many days, he was saved by the presence of his dark sun glasses. "I'm glad you look like me too, princess" 

On the way to the beach he had stopped at a store and purchased a camera, and he took many pictures of her that day. He had pictures of her walking barefooted on the beach, her hair blown by the wind. He had pictures of her playing with a dog she befriended on the beach, casting a stick and watching the dog fetch it, an expression of pure joy on her face. He asked someone to take a picture of the two of them, making castles in the sand. There was his favourite picture of her drawing hearts in the sand, below one heart she wrote Arianna and her dad was here, and the date, then she wrote Arianna Yang, crossed out the Yang and wrote Burke.

The pictures they took that day would be a permanent reminder of their first day together, but nothing could take the place of the mental picture that he would carry in his hear forever. It was a day of firsts, and for him it was like watching his baby take those first wobbly steps toward a parent. It was their first time alone together, the first time they shared a meal, first time she called him daddy, at least to his face. She told him things about her life in California, about dancing and her friends. She told him about the time when she took his photograph to school for show and tell, without Cristina knowing. She explained to her class mates, that she wanted to take her real dad but that he was busy taking care of people's hearts, so he couldn't make it. So she brought his picture instead. Then she introduced the class to her second dad, the scientist. Their only awkward moment came when she referred to her step dad as dad, and she quickly tried to rephrase it by saying 'my second dad'. He could see the uncertainty on her face, she was afraid of offending him, by calling her step father dad, but he quickly set her mind at ease. 

"You have a heart as good as gold, and it's big enough to love two fathers, so I don't want you to be afraid to call your step father dad when you're with me. He is your dad too, ok." 

She nodded her head and smiled, her eyes sparkling bright as the California sunshine, then she very innocently mentioned something about her 'other father' that caused Burke to question everything that Cristina had told him about her marriage.

It was the most memorable day of his life. Far exceeding anything that he ever expected. They went back to the hotel and he let her shower and washed the sand out of her hair. Afterwards she ate, Then she fell asleep almost immediately afterwards. Cristina was right, she was exhausted. As he watched her sleep, Burke realized that being a father was something he enjoyed, and all the fears he experienced earlier that morning had disappeared. Arianna was a blessing and had come into his life at just the right time. He never imagined that he could have such strong feelings for a child that he had only just met. But with Arianna it was like they have known each other all her life. He couldn't see his life without her now, and dreaded having to send her back, in just a couple of hours. 

As promised, Cristina arrived just before five o'clock, and although he was glad to see her, it made him sad because he realized that his daughter would have to go.

Cristina looked at her daughter fast asleep in the bed and she smiled and instinctively reached out and stroked her daughter's hair. "I hope she didn't talk your head off."

Burke smiled, "no, she didn't, my head is still in tact."

Silence followed, then he directed Cristina to a chair, but she insisted that she didn't want to sit "I can't stay long. She has school tomorrow."

"I know, but I just wanted to tell you, Cristina, that you've raised the most amazing child. Thank you again, for bringing her today."

"You're welcome"

He felt awkward being in a hotel room with her. The last time that they were together in a hotel room, she had spent the night in his arms. He had swore to himself that it would never happen again. It was too much to pretend that being so close to her, didn't affect him in ways he didn't want to admit, and no matter how much he believed in the sanctity of marriage. Cristina was still the woman he loved, and every single fibre of his being responded to her.

After another moment of uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. "We're sitting here like strangers. Like we're just strangers who had a one night stand and a baby resulted. Arianna is not the result of a one night stand. She came about because the two of us loved each other. I don't know how to do this. I don't know if I can be in her life, without being in yours."

"What are you saying, that if you can't have me, you don't want her?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all...Arianna is a given, she's loved beyond all reason, and it's not a love that can be negotiated"

"Good, because you can't have me."

"I think you take a great deal of pleasure saying that." he told her, "but I'm a patient man, and I can wait"

She got up and went toward the bed, where Arianna was still fast asleep. Burke went to stand next to her, and for a moment they just stood there watching their daughter as she sleeps. Then Burke left Cristina's side and went into the bathroom. It was the only place where they could have some privacy, should Arianna wake up. He called for Cristina to join him in the bathroom, pretending that he wanted to show her a painting that Arianna did. As soon as she entered the bathroom, he locked the door.

"Do you enjoy torturing me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No! I spent a night in your bed in London, holding you while you sleep. Afraid of making the slightest move because I didn't want to turn you into an adulterer...You spent the entire time there telling me that you were married, and how wonderful a father your husband was to my child...you don't think that was torture?"

"I should have known that you were going to question my daughter"

"Our daughter, and I didn't question her...I don't think she realized what she was telling me."

"I'm sure that made you happy."

"Yes, it did. I'm ecstatic, but what I don't understand is why you lied to me."

She turned toward the bathroom door, "I'm taking my daughter home."

But before she could open the door, he came up behind her, and pulled her backwards into his arms. It was a familiar place, and the passage of time did nothing to dissipate that familiarity.

She could feel every muscle in his body, spasm as she leaned into him. She could feel his warm breath as he breathes at the back of her neck. "I've waited ten years" He told her, "to do this" and he turned her around and kissed her. She didn't resist, didn't participate, she just stayed where she was, in his arms, and he kissed her until she was breathless. Until all her defences crumbled. Until she could resist him no longer, and she joined in the kiss. "I love you" he told her. "It's impossible for me to love anyone else, because, ...I love you...You don't have to say anything, don't have to do anything. Just remember that we once had something very special, and that we are much better together, than when we are apart. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but was rendered silent when a voice from outside called out, "Dad, are you in there?"


End file.
